One Last Regret
by Kimagure
Summary: Remus and Sirius have to help Harry after a particularly trying school year, but will their own issues get in the way? RL/SB slash. Angryattheworld!Remus.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own them, JKR does. 

Warnings: Eventual RL/SB romance, excessive swearing, Angryattheworld!Remus.

One Last Regret

*****

_"Remus? Oh my baby, Remmie..."  
  
"Mama?"  
  
"You're too young to understand this, and I know you don't want to..."  
  
"Mama, they're just my friends from school. I haven't told them."  
  
"Sweetie, I know you mean well. But your kind...It's just not a good idea. This isn't going to end well."  
  
"No, you're wrong. They're different."_  
  
*****  
  
_6th year, Late Spring_  
  
They _weren't_ different. His mother had been right all along.   
  
For a split second in time, he just wanted to bury himself there in the dirt floor of the shack and forget about getting up, about going up to have Pomfrey put him back together, about going to classes...He just wanted to forget about it all. How was he supposed to get up and move on? What was he supposed to do? Pretend it had never happened? Would that even be possible?  
  
  
He seriously contemplated giving into tears and just crying himself sick. He'd done it once...His first full moon here at school, in fact, but he'd grown a lot since those wretched first days. And breaking out in tears was just too inconceivable, too demeaning, just all around too fucking pathetic for an almost fully-grown werewolf to be considering.   
  
So he laughed instead. Laughed so hard that his sides were aching and the scratches lining his chest were burning from where he'd ground dirt into the wounds. He could hear the hysterical qualities of it bouncing off the walls, and it only made him laugh that much more.   
  
Oh gods, he'd been such an idiot. Such an incredibly naïve, innocent, _stupid_ idiot.   
  
When the laughter finally died, he stretched. Popping his dislocated shoulder back into place, he almost welcomed the sharp pain that this last change had left him. If anything, he could use the pain to distract him from what he knew was coming.   
  
"Remus?" James' voice was tentative, nervous. Taking the warning for what it was, Remus reached up to the shredded couch in the room and threw a piece of the blanket on it over himself to cover his nakedness.   
  
"In here, Prongs." He almost laughed again that the sound of the nickname on his lips. Nicknames were something shared between friends. A sign of affection, of trust. They were an extended inside joke. Only now he was left wondering if maybe those wonderful nicknames they'd all come up with weren't just some huge joke on him.   
  
Jamie walked in looking like guilt personified. Which didn't bode at all well for the small, faint hope that he'd been harboring in his heart of it all just having been an accident. That somehow Snape had just followed one of them, or that the Slytherin had just managed to somehow figure it out all on his own. But the look on Jamie's voice spoke volumes, and confirmed what he already suspected.   
  
"What happened?" His voice was low, tired. He managed to contain the hysterics though. It wouldn't do to lose his cool, to leave himself exposed. They'd just proven, after all, that they had no compunction against going for his proverbial jugular.   
  
"Moony, I'm sure he didn't mean to..." And with those words, Remus' world shattered.   
  
There was only one person to whom Jamie could be referring to in this case. It wasn't as if Peter would ever have the balls to talk to Snape, let alone set the guy up and risk the wrath of the entire Slytherin house. No, the whole thing had a certain Sirius flare to it. He could see that right away.   
  
Sirius never was afraid of going too far, of pushing someone past their limits.   
  
In fact, it was one of the things that had originally drawn Remus to the taller boy all those years ago. Sirius just had an exuberance about him that Remus hadn't been able to resist. He'd started off his first few days way back as a first year with every intention of keeping his distance from all the other kids. It was too much of a risk, the worry that they'd find out about him.   
  
But Sirius hadn't taken no for an answer. And Remus really hadn't wanted to tell him no. For the first time in his entire life, someone _wanted_ to be his friend. Someone _wanted_ to include him in on the fun. Someone _wanted_ him around.   
  
And the marauders? God, they'd looked past everything that he was, and still saw something that was worthwhile. Or…At least that was what he'd thought. He'd _thought_ he and Sirius were close.   
  
He'd shared everything…_everything_ he had to give with his best friend. His partner in crime. The beautiful gypsy boy who seemed to be able to charm anyone he wanted, and yet had still chosen to pal around with the shy werewolf. Sirius knew him better than anyone, he'd told Sirius things that he hadn't told his parents, or Dumbledore, or even the rest of the marauders. He'd _trusted_ Sirius. Gorgeous, imp eyed, best-thing-that-had-ever-happened-to-him Sirius...  
  
...who had betrayed him.   
  
In one of the worst ways possible.  
  
Numbly, he leaned his head back on the edge of the sofa.  
  
"I'm sure he didn't, but I'm still fuzzy on exactly what it was he did…" The words came out, but it almost sounded as if someone else was saying them. He knew James was watching him, but he couldn't make himself match the gaze. So instead he focused on his hands, noticing as he did so that his pinky finger had popped out of place with the change. It didn't hurt, not now anyway since he was sure it had pinched a nerve when it dislocated. That was the problem with changes, things never went wholly back into the places they were meant to be. With a vicious twist he snapped the bone back into its original socket.   
  
"Jesus, Moony," James looked a bit green, but then, he never had reacted well to seeing Remus have to put things back into place. "Um…well, you know what things are like between Snape and Sirius. It's gotten worse since you started getting paired with the slimy git in potions. And well…God, there's no good way to say this Remus. Snape was taunting Sirius, you know what it's like, and Sirius told him that if he was so interested in you he oughta come here. So he did..."  
  
"Last night." Remus finished as Jamie flashed him a pained look.   
  
"Sirius feels horrible about it all. We spent all night in Dumbledore's office with Snape. I don't know how the old man did it, but he convinced Snape not to tell anyone about you. Your secret's still safe."   
  
Remus imagined that the awful expression on Jamie's face was meant to look apologetic, understanding even.   
  
But all he could see was the three of them—the three other marauders—laughing at him. Like he'd been laughing moments before Jamie had even come in. Oh god, he'd been so stupid. To think that someone as great as Sirius or as wonderful as Jamie, or even that someone like Peter who happened to be a lot like him, could see past the werewolf...  
  
How could he have thought that they'd be okay with something like that? How could he have _ever_ thought that they understood?  
  
"Why didn't I..." He could only gesture vaguely, because if he actually said the words out loud he most likely would lose what little was left in his stomach. No one had to tell him how close things had been. The wolf had smelled them both, wanted them both, hungered for them both. Even now, so close after the change, he could feel himself salivating over the memory of their scents.   
  
"Sirius confessed in time, and I ran out here to stop Snape. He'd already gotten past the willow though. God, Remus, it was a close thing."  
  
"Thanks, Jamie." He whispered, because he couldn't make his voice come out any louder. In a way, he owed what remaining sanity he had to James. "I'm...I think I'm just going to stay here for the rest of the day." He must have sounded as exhausted as he felt, because Jamie only nodded.   
  
"We'll all be waiting for you up in the tower when you're feeling better." And with that, Prongs left the little hellhole Remus had become so intimately familiar with.   
  
It was nice for Prongs or Padfoot or even Wormtail. They could walk out of here, they could leave with a clear conscience. They could just go about their merry little lives, and do whatever shenanigans came to mind with little to no real fear of reprisal.   
  
The difference between them and him, he decided, was that when they left this room, they could forget all about this. It didn't weigh heavily on their minds. He knew for a fact that they barely thought of it except for those few days surrounding the full moon. And when they did think of his lycanthropy, it was with an air of mischief. As if it were some grand _joke_, some huge _adventure_.   
  
Except it wasn't a joke to him.   
  
_This_ wasn't just a joke to him.   
  
His mother was right. He was cursed. And with that thought foaming at the forefront of his mind, he ripped at the shack in unrepressed fury, destroying what little remained of the already shredded sofa before moving on to the end table and the chairs.  
  
He hadn't started out life as a werewolf.   
  
He didn't _want_ to live with the responsibility of his affliction month in and month out. He didn't _want_ to have to live through the pain each change inflicted. He hadn't _asked_ for _any_ of this. He hadn't _chosen_ any of this.  
  
How many nights in his life had he sat up, looking at the moon, wishing more than anything that this _disease_ wasn't a part of who he was? And how many days had he sat at home by himself wondering why it was that no one else could see that his lycanthropy was _just_ a part of who he was and not the whole?  
  
The sheer unfairness of it all hung at his heart like a weighted hook, tearing at him. He'd thought he could overcome, he thought he could make it different. But _obviously_ he had been wrong. There was a certain path that he was meant to walk, and it looked to him now, that it had never been a matter of him choosing it. It had been laid out before him from the moment he'd been bitten. He'd been the only one who hadn't seen it, who hadn't realized it. He wasn't meant to have friends, because part of the curse meant walking the world alone.   
  
But that didn't mean he had to like it, he decided as he howled at the room in rage. Mourning, in his own way, the friends that he now knew he'd never had in the first place.   
  
*****  
  
_"Forgive me, Remus."  
  
"Not at all, Padfoot, my old friend." _  
  
The words rang in his head sometimes, often times really, in the last two years. He was still trying to figure out if he meant it entirely, or not at all. In parts, he had meant that he'd forgiven Sirius for thinking him the spy. That hadn't been a very big point to concede.   
  
As for other incidents...Well, it seemed a bit silly to carry a grudge for that long. Somewhere in the years that Sirius had spent in Azkaban, Remus had come to terms with the betrayal...Or as he had believed at the time, betrayals.   
  
It wasn't that he'd woken up one morning, condoning the actions, or even understanding them. It was just that the anger, the energy that he'd put into hating Sirius, hating the marauders, hating the fucking world and his fucking affliction…Life was much too short to waste himself over something like that. So, he'd forgiven them all and moved on, because that was all that was left for him to do.   
  
Oh, but of course things couldn't be as simple as all that. Sirius had escaped, his world had flip-flopped once again, and Dumbledore and the Cause had recruited him once more.   
  
Because, in the most strategic of senses, he'd been told, it never hurt to have a dark creature on their side.   
  
He'd long since come to terms with people using him for his curse. It almost failed to come as a surprise any more. He'd gotten through his youth with the belief that he could be just like everyone else if he just tried hard enough. He knew the futility of that logic now. The world was much more clearer for him these days than it had been in the idealistic past.   
  
He was simply everyone's rag to be used to try and wipe away the ugliness.   
  
Dumbledore had commented to him in the year he'd masqueraded as a DADA professor about how cynical he'd become. He hardly saw how one could take a different perspective, and he'd said as much. That at least, he and Severus had in common. Not that it had ever mattered.   
  
Not that Remus had ever cared.   
  
He'd made a life in the last decade and a half of not caring. He'd retreated into himself because that was the only thing he could do. It wasn't a matter of choice; it was a matter of self-preservation. It was a matter of keeping his dignity and his sanity. It was a matter of knowing that his lot in life was a pittance in comparison and that he would do well to just accept it. He'd gone through the obligatory period of balking at the notion like a headstrong idiot. But destiny wasn't really something you could fight and win against.   
  
"Do you think he's going to be okay?" He hadn't even heard Sirius sneak up behind him, but he supposed it was a sign of the times. Somewhere in Azkaban, Sirius had learned to move soundlessly. He'd freaked out more than a few members of the Order that way.  
  
"Do you want the truth?" He asked quietly, a counterpoint to Sirius' own silence as they both stared out off the porch and towards the knoll where Harry was sitting, his back to them both. He'd be a seventh year when he went back to school at the end of the summer, but to Remus' eyes, it was obvious that in some respects Harry was already older than most adults the teen probably knew.   
  
"Yes."  
  
"No, no I don't think he's going to be okay. I think that's why Dumbledore arranged this. If Harry were going to be 'just fine', then I think that he would've ended up spending the summer with those muggle relatives of his." Having said his piece, Remus gave Harry's lonely figure one last glance.   
  
He understood what it was that Dumbledore was trying to do, why it was that he'd been dragged into this whole scenario. The trick, however, would be living up to his part. He doubted that the Headmaster quite realized the depths of the problems he'd created within Harry's heart and head. Or maybe he did…  
  
He supposed it didn't matter. Either way, it was a broken soul that sat isolated up on the knoll, head bent back, gazing motionless at the stars in the sky.   
  
"Moony, I don't know what to do..." The desperation was almost enough for Remus to forgive him the use of that particular nickname. Almost.   
  
"Sirius, _please_ don't call me that." He said softly, and when Sirius looked properly rebuked, Remus sighed. "Take a close look at him and it ought to come to you."   
  
"It's not that easy."   
  
Of course it wasn't. Nothing lasting, nothing good ever was. He gave Sirius a sharp look, trying to size up just how serious the other man was about helping out. Sirius had already proven himself different from the carefree teen he'd once remembered, but there were thousands of directions in which a person could change, and a part of him still doubted...  
  
"He just needs you to be there, Sirius." _Like you weren't there for me._ "You read the same reports I did on that muggle family of his, you've seen the way he acts. I imagine that the Weasleys were a sort of surrogate family for him for a while…and with what happened to the youngest..."  
  
"But what do I do, what the hell am I supposed to say?" The plaintive note in Sirius voice infuriated him. Of course Sirius had never been in the places that Harry's mind wandered to, how the hell was the man supposed to know? Oh, but the werewolf…Of course the werewolf knew all about this. Knew what to do, what to say. Knew it deep down in his soul because he fucking lived it every goddamn day.   
  
"Oh for fuck's sake, Sirius." He spat the words out, startling Sirius in the process. "He needs reassurance. He needs to know that it's not his fault and that the fucking destiny of the world really _doesn't_ rest in the palms of his hands. He needs your acceptance, and your affection. And goddamn it, he needs your love. If you can't give him that, if that's asking too much of you, then I suggest you leave now."  
  
"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but I am not leaving that kid to face his demons alone."   
  
_Of course he wouldn't._ Remus chocked back a humorless laugh. Godsons were completely different from boyhood friends turned partners in crime. God, but he was a bitter old man. Or maybe it was just that he knew how fair weather Sirius' affections could be...  
  
"Fine. Harry needs you. If you want a plan of action, go romp on out there as Padfoot. At this point, he'll probably be more receptive and more calmed by your canine presence than your human one. A dog makes a less accusatory, a less demanding, and a far less judgmental confidant than humans do." And it would keep Sirius from shoving his foot squarely in his mouth and creating the need for more damage control. "I'll see you both in the morning."   
  
Tiredly, he made his way up to his bedroom, carefully shutting the door behind him as he could feel the change starting. Despite their differences, Severus had agreed upon a trade. The Wolfsbane potion on the appropriate intervals in return for werewolf hairs, whiskers, blood...whatever he could spare for the myriads of potions Severus enjoyed tinkering with.   
  
Dark creature indeed. He snorted. More like he was the demon in his own personal hell.  
  
*****


	2. Of Teenage Angst Fests

*****  
  
Sirius padded softly, almost soundlessly up the grassy hill and towards his godson. It was a dumb talent to have acquired. God only knew that dementors found their prey by sensing emotions and not sounds, but he'd long since left the rational portion of his brain behind. Instinctual fear had called for silence, so silence he'd delivered.   
  
He plopped his rump down beside Harry, leaning over slightly until they were lightly touching, but the dark haired teen made no move to push him away or bring him closer.   
  
He couldn't afford to mess this up. Not like he'd messed things up with Remus.  
  
Memories of Remus had plagued him incessantly through his stay in Hell. It hadn't helped that while they'd been in school Sirius had never understood Remus' withdrawal. And it hadn't helped to know that it took his best friends dying for him to figure out what had _really_ happened between him and Remus.   
  
More than anything these days, he wanted to apologize. He wanted, needed really, to have Remus understand that he now understood. He needed Remus to forgive him.  
  
Oh, Remus had given him the words all right. Words of forgiveness that he'd taken face value at the time. He really ought to have known better. It wasn't that Remus had suddenly turned on him before the trial after all. No, they'd been at odds years before that.   
  
Things had never been quite the same since the shack incident.   
  
But he wasn't here to nag at his teenage regrets, he reminded himself with an idle shake of his head. He was here for Harry. He glanced over at the teen and could see tear tracks on his godson's cheeks. The eyes were suspiciously dry now though, and Sirius had been watching him for the last half hour from the porch.   
  
Hesitantly, he butted his head against Harry's shoulders. The gaze stayed strictly focused on the stars, however. There was a familiar sort of weary stiffness in the posture, in the way Harry held himself, the way that those eyes focused on everything and yet nothing at the same time. He'd been watching from the porch trying to place where he'd seen that sort of gravity of the soul.   
  
In retrospect, it should have been obvious. He'd thought briefly that it might have been reminiscent of the way Jamie or maybe even Lily had stood. But then Remus had walked out on the porch and it had become blindingly apparent as to whom Harry was unintentionally emulating.   
  
Well, he wasn't having it. Come hell or high water, he was not going to let his godson retreat behind the same icy, polite-but-emotionless shell Remus had decided to present to the world. Oh, he'd gotten a reaction out of Moony moments ago, but even then, it was probably the wolf talking more than anything else.   
  
The hell with that. He gave a small bark before planting his forepaws on Harry's shoulders and pushing the teen to the ground. From the shocked expression and the yelp Harry had given, it hadn't been something the teen had been expecting. Which suited Sirius' purposes just fine.   
  
With Harry pinned, he looked down at the wide green eyes and the tear tracks on those pale cheeks. Without really stopping to think about it, he licked both cheeks and chuffed reproachfully.   
  
"Ugh. Sirius."   
  
Now that was more like it, and he chuffed his approval as he tapped a paw on Harry's chest.   
  
"Aren't you going to change back?"   
  
Once again, too polite. Too emotionless. This was the same Harry that he'd picked up at the train station. And not the slightly mischievous, fearless one that had saved his life two years ago.   
  
Whining softly, he butted his head against Harry's limp hand before inching forward until he was half sitting on the teen's chest.   
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Another well placed lick and Harry sputtered slightly, before chuckling softly.   
  
"This was Remus' idea, wasn't it."   
  
Sirius chuffed an affirmative as Harry tentatively stroked at the fur on his head. He in turn, nuzzled his charge softly, trying to encourage and hoping that Harry would relax…If just a little.   
  
"I'm so sorry, Sirius." The voice cracked slightly on his name, and Sirius edged up slightly, bestowing a well place lick on Harry's forehead before exhaling softly in his hair. It wasn't the kid's fault. None of this had ever been Harry's fault. He curled up tight against the teen, thumping his tail in time with the strokes of Harry's hand on his head.   
  
For now, that seemed to be enough to break through Harry's shell. The boy curled up against him, burying his face in Sirius' fur. There weren't any tears in those clear, almost sightless green eyes, but Sirius could feel him shaking all the same.   
  
At least this time he could understand what was happening. There were many times in Azkaban when he'd suppressed his emotions to this point. Tears wouldn't come. Laughter had long since left. But underneath his skin, itching to free itself…all the guilt he felt, all his anger and hurt. Betrayal.  
  
The only real difference between them both at this moment was that Sirius' actions were what had landed him directly in his predicament. Harry had been born with the odds against him.  
  
He stayed beside Harry for what felt like hours, licking when he felt it appropriate, chuffing encouragingly when Harry tried to turn away. Finally, Harry shook himself into exhaustion, and then into a fitful sleep as the emotional strain proved to be too much for his body. God only knew that he hadn't been eating enough.   
  
Although Sirius could understand that well enough too. It felt…wrong to eat, to take care of yourself, to be happy and to survive when you felt as if you'd already destroyed all the precious things in life. It was hard to take care of yourself when you really couldn't see what might be worthy of that care.   
  
Shifting back into his human form, Sirius took a moment to smooth the bangs off his godson's face. God, but he was still a kid. Just a kid, and yet looked so old when he was awake and those eyes were focused on him. A small sigh, and he dug under the limp body carefully, scooping it off the dew covered ground.   
  
The kid hardly weighed a thing.   
  
Remus had been on the mark, he decided. Harry was very close to the breaking point, and it would probably take a combined effort on their part to keep the teen from disintegrating in their hands.   
  
He couldn't afford to mess this up.   
  
_Oh god,_ please,_ don't let me mess this up too._  
  
*****  
  
Remus had an unusually high pain tolerance, so he knew that it was particularly bad when he woke to hear his own screams. Certain full moons were stronger than others, and the stronger they were, the more force it took to shift from the wolf to human form.   
  
To make matters worse, his knee hadn't completely popped back into the right position either. He was sure, in the back of his mind, that with a little research and a wave of a wand he could put it back in place with little to no side effects, but at the moment? At the moment, it hurt like hell, and having a limp for a few days didn't seem like such a bad trade in return for getting rid of the spikes shooting up his thigh.   
  
Looking away, he gave a violent wrench. There was a sickeningly squishy pop, and Remus stumbled as he tried to keep a firm grip on his stomach. Lurching slightly to the side, he knew he was going to fall to the planked floors, but it didn't seem worth the attempt to reverse his momentum back to the bed.   
  
So it came as something of a surprise as someone broke his fall, catching him around the shoulders just in time to lend support and prevent him from falling flat on his face.   
  
"Are you okay?" Soft-spoken words, and worried green eyes. Remus managed a half smile in the teen's direction before grimacing as he moved back towards the bed.   
  
"I'm fine." He moved over just enough, and patted the bed lightly, issuing a silent invitation to Harry to take a seat as he hastily covered himself with his blanket. Almost unconsciously, the teen plopped down beside him, taking up as little space as possible and looking no less worried.   
  
"Is it always like this?"   
  
"No, no this month the moon had a bit more pull than most." He tried to explain while Harry avoided looking in his direction. "What brought you all the way up here?" He asked, figuring it was at least a safe change of conversation.   
  
"You were screaming. I thought at first that it was just my dream, but when I woke up…I didn't mean to intrude." Harry hastily added, jumping off the bed as if he'd just come to an important conclusion. "I just thought I could help, and well…I guess I just didn't stop to think that you go through this every month."   
  
Oh, Remus knew what this was all about, he decided as he got a better look at Harry. The uncomfortable shifting from one foot to the other. The looks of longing mixed in with terror. Heaven only knew that he remembered what it was like to wonder if your presence was welcomed or not. If they wanted you there, or if you were just a burden. If they kept you around because they actually cared, or if it was just because they were obligated to...  
  
He'd played out this little dance with his stepfather so many times, he knew the steps by heart. The difference was that he didn't plan on being half as indifferent to Harry's discomfort as his own stepfather had been to his.  
  
"Relax, Harry." He patted the bed again, and this time the teen gingerly sat himself down, watching Remus carefully and intensely for even the slightest signal that he might not be welcome. "Feel free to help me out any time after a transformation. I'm...I'm not really at my strongest then."  
  
"It looked painful."  
  
"I've seen worse. _You've_ seen worse." He reminded gently. Harry seemed to think for a moment, and then shake away the reminder with a shudder. "Could you pass me my clothes?" They desperately needed to change the topic, and with a pain addled mind, it was the best he could manage.   
  
It wasn't that he never wanted Harry to talk about what had happened over the past school year. It was just that he wasn't naïve enough to think that Harry was ready to confess, or that he was ready to support the teen as he did so on the morning after the first full moon of the summer. Wordlessly, Harry handed him the clothes and then politely turned around. There were a few aches that got in the way, but he got his boxers and the jeans on as quickly as he could manage.   
  
"I think the shirt will have to wait until later." He muttered as he looked down at the bloody claw marks on his chest.   
  
"Yeah, it'll just stick to you if you put it on." Harry nodded sagely and Remus shot him a wry grin as he clamored slowly to his feet.  
  
"Yeah, come here. If I'm gonna be bleeding on anyone, it might as well be you." He motioned, and he could see the hesitation in Harry's eyes before the teen finally walked over and allowed Remus to sling an arm around the thin shoulders for support.   
  
In truth, he probably could have made it down the stairs and to the kitchen without Harry's help. But whether the kid knew it, realized it, or not…Harry needed the casual touches that families usually gave. That fathers usually gave.   
  
And all right, so he wasn't anyone's ideal father. He wasn't anyone's ideal anything. But this would at least get Harry acclimated a bit before his godfather went in, full tilt. Or at the very least, it would be a start in desensitizing Harry to touch. The kid was jumpy enough as it was.   
  
Not that he was an expert on such things, but he knew that growing up, this was what he'd wanted the most. Someone to just reach out when he couldn't. Someone who could see what he'd needed, and then just given it, no strings attached. And all right, so it wasn't as if he knew from experience what to do, but it couldn't be that hard. He'd spent a lifetime watching.   
  
They made it to the kitchen without mishap, and Remus was pleasantly surprised to find that at one out of the three of them would be at home in the kitchen as Harry tinkered around with the muggle appliances that the house had come furnished with. From the smell of things, it looked as if Harry was going to turn out to be a pretty decent cook as well, he decided as he sniffed the air appreciatively.   
  
"I hope scrambled eggs and toast is all right. I mean, if you want something different I can always just...you know." Harry waved vaguely as he put a heaping plate on the table in front of Remus. From the look on the kid's face, Remus assumed that Harry thought he was going to reject the meal out of hand. He snorted softly to himself, not bloody likely.   
  
"Thank you, but this will be more than good. In fact, think of taking away this plate, and I may just gnaw your arm off." He winked before digging in, and that seemed to relax the teen, who plopped bonelessly into the chair beside him. "Aren't you going to eat anything?"   
  
"No, no I already ate." It was a lie, and they both knew it. But Remus decided that he'd just have to pick his battles. Or, at the very least, let Sirius be the one to guilt Harry into eating. "Do you know where Sirius went off to? I would've thought that with your screaming this morning…" The teen trailed off, embarrassed.   
  
"He's probably out in the pole barn with Buckbeak. From what I can gather, he doesn't enjoy sleeping in the house." It was probably too much like sleeping with the enemy, he couldn't help but think scathingly, before attempting to reign his temper back in.   
  
Damn, but the full moon made him irritable. Usually the thought that Sirius didn't trust him completely didn't bother him. After all, it wasn't as if he trusted Sirius much either. It was just that sometimes...God, how many times in the last two years had he been turned away from B and Bs, or hotels, because no one wanted to sleep next door to the big bad wolf? It was a sore spot.   
  
"Oh." From the look on Harry's face, it was obvious that the teen didn't completely understand either. "Do you think he'll want anything for breakfast?"   
  
"Er…well, mind you it's been a while, but the old Sirius I used to know wasn't too big on breakfast. Besides, he probably won't be up and about for a few more hours yet." Remus offered as he took a look at the clock on the far wall that was chiming seven am.   
  
"Remus, can I ask you something?"   
  
"Sure, anything." The question had caught him slightly off guard, but from the confused look on Harry's face, he decided it was probably important.   
  
"The tattoo." Harry pointed, and dumbly, Remus looked down at the tattoo that covered his flesh right above his heart. He'd forgotten to renew the glamour on it in the haste to get the house ready for Harry, he realized instantly.   
  
"Oh...er..."  
  
"I mean, I can see that it's part magical. It _looks_ like there are numbers there, but the rest..." The befuddlement on Harry's face was almost enough to induce a chuckle out of him. Almost.  
  
"The numbers are magically tattooed in. It's my registry number." He could see the understanding dawning in Harry's eyes. "As for the rest of it...well..." He waved a hand ambiguously as he tried to figure out a how to justify to a sixteen year old the reasons behind tattooing "Fuck You" on one's chest. " I was young. And stupid. And angry at the world. _Really_ angry-"  
  
"Remus," Harry butt in before he could go much farther, "You don't have to explain. I get it."   
  
He breathed a sigh of relief and then went back to systematically eating the wonderful food Harry had prepared.   
  
"Do you think that maybe..." He raised his head and look towards Harry, waiting for the teen to finish the thought. "Would it be all right if I got a tattoo?" The green eyes were earnest, and Harry was worrying his lower lip something fierce as he waited for Remus' response.  
  
"Um..." Remus stalled unintelligently as he wracked his brain for some sort of excuse as to why it wouldn't be a good idea. Nothing came. At the time, his tattoo had been rather cathartic, and a well-placed glamour could always cover it up, so it wasn't entirely like the thing would be permanent..."If Sirius says you can." He finally answered diplomatically.   
  
"Cop out." For a second, there was a flash of the Harry he'd taught three years back.   
  
"Exactly. Now why don't you go and wake up your godfather while I clean up in here." From the look on the teen's face, it was apparent to Remus that Harry didn't think him quite capable of the chore. "Scram." He added good-naturedly with a chuckle, waving Harry out. "You made breakfast, and it's only fair if I clean up afterwards."  
  
"Remus," Harry paused at the doorway, and Remus looked over, "thanks for letting me stay here for the summer."  
  
*****  
  
"What I would like to know," Sirius started out, trying to keep the tone of his voice in moderation as Remus quirked an eyebrow at him, "is how you've managed to put the idea of a muggle tattoo in his head when the two of you haven't even spent a whole day together yet."  
  
"I told him he had to talk to you first about it." Remus replied calmly before sipping at the cup of tea in his hand and turning his attention away from Sirius back to the morning paper.   
  
It was that oh so polite demeanor that had Sirius gnashing his teeth. Harry wanted a tattoo, of all things, and Sirius knew Remus was somehow responsible for the decision. So of course, instead of acting like the teenage rebellion instigator Sirius knew he was deep down, Remus had his snotty professor guise in place.   
  
It was infuriating.   
  
"Well, of course I couldn't tell him no!"  
  
"He's sixteen." Another raised eyebrow. "Of _course_ you could have told him no."  
  
"Not when he trotted out a list of reasons a mile long on why he should be able to. And then the _look_ he gave me. He's been told no so many times in his life. I couldn't be the one to go against him...it's like killing defenseless kittens or something." He threw his hands up in frustration.  
  
"So let him get the tattoo."   
  
Nothing got to the man, Sirius decided with a low growl. Could he even see how serious something like this was? They were supposed to be gluing Harry back together, not indulging in teenage angst fests. "Do you even know what it is that he wants?"   
  
"No, but I'm sure whatever it is, it'll be fine." Remus took another sip of tea.   
  
"He wants 'Fuck Voldemort' tattooed on his back."   
  
Remus chocked on the tea.   
  
"He what?"   
  
"He says he got the idea from you. From a particular tattoo you have that he apparently saw this morning." Sirius ground out, planting his palms on the table in front of Remus, watching the emotions flit quickly across Remus' face. In the end, the man's amusement seemed to win out, and he gave Sirius a small, but distant grin.   
  
"Well then, there you go. I say all the more power to him."  
  
"Oh for God's sake, Remus. It's a _tattoo_. They're _permanent_. We can't just let him get that written onto his back, it's irresponsible." And God, didn't those words just sound wrong coming out of his mouth? Sirius blanched momentarily.   
  
"They're only permanent if you're muggle. You should know that. And if he feels that it's something that he needs to do, then I really don't see the big deal. He needs to feel as if he's in control of _something_ in his life, and if a fucking tattoo gives him that feeling...then I say good for him." There was a furious glint in those eyes, Sirius noted, as Remus calmly delivered his impromptu speech.   
  
"Fine. You both win." He slumped down in the chair across from Remus, studying the man closely. It seemed like a lifetime ago that they'd been friends. And even back then…Sirius had a feeling that he'd never fully understood Remus. And a great deal of that had been his own fault; he could realize that in retrospect. He'd been oblivious and superficial. He'd been naïve and self concerned.   
  
He hadn't even realized what he'd risked—and lost—until after it was already gone.   
  
But in his own defense, Remus had never been particularly forthcoming either. Sirius wasn't a mind reader after all. He'd gauged his friend's moods, his thoughts, and his feelings to the best of his ability at the time. And obviously it had only left him with half the picture of who Remus had been.   
  
"When did you do it?" The urge to call him Moony was almost overwhelming, but he resisted. The nickname never failed to thoroughly piss Remus off these days, and at the moment he wanted answers, not a reaction.   
  
"What?" The now patented and perfected raised professor eyebrow.  
  
"The tattoo. Harry wouldn't give me any specifics and I want to know about how this all started."   
  
Remus shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and Sirius knew that he was finally about to get somewhere past that cold shell. "I got it the summer between sixth and seventh year. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to finish reading the rest of this paper."  
  
"Let me see it."   
  
"No."   
  
"Well, at least tell me what it's of."  
  
"Hell no."  
  
"Can you at least tell me where it is?"   
  
"Will you leave me alone?"  
  
"I might."  
  
"Fine. It's on my chest. Now go away." Remus only snapped like that when Sirius was getting too close, too personal. And the thought made Sirius smile. It wasn't that he wanted to hurt the man. Things couldn't be farther from it, in fact. He hated seeing the life Remus had carved out for himself.   
  
Nobody should have to live like this. And Remus...Remus _deserved_ better than this. Loneliness was it's own sort of disease, and Sirius knew that better than most people these days. He wished for something different, something better, for the shy, quiet boy he'd once befriended all those years ago.   
  
He pulled his wand out of his back pocket, pointed it discreetly at Remus under the table, and muttered a quick spell. There was a faint popping sound and then the shirt vanished, leaving Remus bared chest and yelping in astonishment before Sirius.   
  
"Goddamn it, what the hell did you do that for?!" Remus quickly slapped a hand over the patch of skin that Sirius knew his registry number had been magically tattooed on.  
  
"I wanted to see what your muggle tattoo looked like. Just let me have a look." Although he was already looking. He'd forgotten how deceptive Remus could be. The old, ragged and somewhat bulky clothes the man chose to hide behind did a lot to cover the toned muscle that the werewolf left him with.   
  
There was an entire latticework of oddly angled scars running across the lightly tanned skin of the rather defined chest. It should look ugly, grotesque even. But it didn't. It shouldn't have affected him at all, really. But it did.   
  
"Just let me look, and I promise I'll leave you alone about it." Sirius told him quietly, keeping his eyes trained on the trapped look in Remus' amber ones.   
  
"Fine. It's not like it's a big secret, anyway." Remus added defensively before dropping the hand away.   
  
It was somewhat tasteless. And offensive. And tattooed completely over the numbers that registered him as a werewolf in the Ministry directory.   
  
Sirius understood the significance in just a heartbeat.  
  
"Now, if your highness doesn't mind, I'm going upstairs to procure myself a new shirt." Remus bit out acidicly before climbing out of the chair, grabbing the cane next to it, and hobbling slowly out of the kitchen, chin held high.   
  
*****


	3. Of Nighttime Confessions

*****  
  
_7th Year, September 1_  
  
"Oi, Jamie...have you seen Remus?" Sirius ducked back into the compartment he and Jamie had set aside for themselves. Peter was tucked in the far corner, munching away happily on his chocolate frogs, and Sirius knew from experience that the other boy hadn't left the compartment since boarding.   
  
The only person missing was Remus.  
  
"I haven't seen him, but then again, today is the day after…you know." Jamie gestured to the ceiling vaguely. "He probably got a bit queasy."  
  
"I guess." Sirius bit at his lip as he thought about it. "I don't know, he wouldn't talk to me at all the last two weeks of school before the summer, and all the letters I sent over break were returned..." He trailed off.   
  
"You know he can't get letters during the summer. It's been like that since we were second years." Jamie reminded him, and Sirius scowled in return. Remus' mother had gotten remarried Christmas of their second year, and as far as Sirius was concerned Remus' new stepfather had all the makings of an overbearing, anal-retentive prick. "He was really mad at you too for what happened at the shack before school got out…" Jamie added uncertainly.   
  
"I _know_. That's why I'm trying to find him." Sirius snapped irritably.   
  
"Why don't you try the back of the train? That's where he was last year." Peter chirped in, and both Jamie and Sirius turned to look at him in startled realization.   
  
"That's it! Thanks Peter." Sirius didn't wait for a reply as he bounded out into the hallway and ran towards the end of the train. He'd been checking apartments when Remus was probably out puking over the side of the railing. For whatever reason, Remus hated using the train's bathrooms like a normal person. It was just one more thing about the guy that Sirius didn't totally get.   
  
He'd tried explaining to Remus what had happened. He'd tried apologizing. Hell, he'd even tried groveling in the two weeks that had been left before summer break of last year. None of it had even fazed Remus.   
  
And Sirius hated it. Sure, he'd been wrong to do what he'd done. But did it honestly mean that they couldn't work things out? That they still couldn't be friends? Not that Jamie and Peter weren't great guys, they were. It was just that Peter spent all his time trying to catch up with his homework, while Jamie spent every waking hour since fifth year mooning over Lily Evans.   
  
He and Remus had been partners in crime. They'd been close. He couldn't just let Moony throw that all away over one stupid mistake he'd made in the heat of the moment.   
  
He _needed_ Moony.   
  
Truth be told, it was his confusion over the things he felt for Remus that had gotten him into the whole mess in the first place. Sure, he'd dated a few girls, but it just never seemed to him that he'd ever be able to have quite the same type of camaraderie with them as he had with Remus. That and when he'd been out with a girl...They all talked about the dumbest things. Obsessing over make-up, scoffing at pranks, always gossiping about people he really couldn't care less about.   
  
Inevitably, on every date, thoughts of Remus had always intruded. Remus' mischievous amber eyes when they were talking about the latest charm they'd used on Malfoy, or the way Remus always looked like he needed a haircut because he was forever shoving swatches of light brown hair out of his eyes, or the way Remus' face would light up whenever Sirius walked in the room…  
  
Remus was special. Anyone who couldn't see that was either blind, or stupid, or both.   
  
Which was why Snape's words had pissed him off so much. The slimy git had said ugly, hateful things about his best friend. Snape had taunted him, asking how he liked buggering Remus up the ass, talked about how they probably fucked each other silly outside when they were dodging curfew. And then Snape had made it out to sound like the marauders were all involved in some huge orgy under the stars.   
  
It was ridiculous, in retrospect, that he'd even let Snape's words get to him. The idea of the marauders in an orgy was more than laughable. It was ludicrous. But Snape had struck a nerve with his words about Remus. Because Sirius had been noticing the way Remus walked, the way he looked when he came into the dorm in the morning with just a towel wrapped around those slim hips. Snape's words had struck a nerve because Sirius wanted to reach out sometimes and see if those lips were as soft as they seemed to be or if Remus' hair felt as silky as it looked.   
  
And Sirius knew, without having to be told, that those weren't the kind of thoughts that he should be having about his best friend. And they were thoughts that he liked even less when they were snarked out loud in the ugly words Snape had used.  
  
So he'd said a bunch of stupid, thoughtless things in return. If he could take it all back, he would. In a heartbeat.   
  
He reached the last door on the train, and he swung it open, stepping out onto the platform with more than a little unease as he saw Remus slumped slightly over the side. From the sounds of it, Remus was in the process of losing his breakfast to the tracks. Sympathetically, he reached over to give the slender back a comforting rub.   
  
Remus flinched at the touch though, and then quickly shook the hand off. "Go away, Sirius."   
  
He ignored the plea and turned to stand beside his friend against the railing. "I sent you letters all summer, but it looks like your stepfather sent them all back, unopened."   
  
"We don't have anything to talk about." Remus' voice was dull, resigned.  
  
"We have _everything_ to talk about!" Sirius bit back indignantly. "You wouldn't even listen to me before we left for the summer. So you better damn well listen now. God, I'm _trying_ to apologize, I never meant for things to go that far. We're best friends, Remus-"   
  
"We are _not_ friends, Black." Remus cut in, slicing right through Sirius' bravado and leaving him speechless. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Remus spared Sirius an icy glare. "Just leave me alone." And with those words, Remus brushed roughly past him and back into the train's interior.   
  
Never in his entire life had Sirius hated himself as he did at that moment.  
  
*****  
  
"Harry, you have to eat something."  
  
"I'm not hungry."  
  
"It doesn't matter."  
  
"It's not that big of a deal, can't you just leave it alone, please?"  
  
"No, I can't."  
  
"Why? Why can't you?! It's not like anybody cares, or that it'd be a great loss or anything if I just stopped functioning altogether."  
  
"Hey, I care! I don't like seeing you just waste away like this."  
  
"Oh right. You'll have to excuse me, I forgot for a second there exactly who it is I'm supposed to be. Wouldn't it just be a bleeding shame if the Boy Who Lived died without taking He Who Fucking Lives Forever with him."  
  
"Harry-"  
  
"_Leave me alone_!"  
  
"Sirius, just let him go for now..."  
  
*****  
  
He'd promised Dumbledore that he wouldn't try to drown his sorrows in liquor any more. But then again, he'd also promised to have a good long talk with Remus too, and since the chances of that happening were getting slimmer with each day, Sirius really couldn't bring himself to feel too bad about a small concession like getting drunk.  
  
Besides that, being smashed gave him an excuse for his behavior when he woke up tomorrow to face the music for what he was about to do. After an afternoon by himself lost in thought, this still had ended up being the best plan he could come up with. In reality, it wasn't that much of a plan. Mostly, it was that he didn't want to be sober when he talked about the things he planned on talking about.   
  
"Harry," he tried whispering before tapping on the door to the teen's room. He ended up wincing though as the tapping came out as more of a banging and the whisper more of a drunken slur. There was a rustling inside the room, so Sirius knew that Harry had heard him, so he supposed, in the end, it didn't matter if he'd been a bit louder than planned.   
  
"Sirius?" The door swung open, and Harry stood in front of him, blurry eyed and in pajamas. "What are you doing?"  
  
"We need to talk." He pushed lightly past Harry, closing the door behind him before carefully making his way over to the rumpled bed and sitting down. He was in the process of congratulating himself for having made it across the room without tripping when Harry padded over and plopped down on the bed just far enough to be out of arm's reach.   
  
"Have you...I mean, that is...Are you drunk?" Harry asked uncertainly, and Sirius winced.   
  
"Yeah. Did Dursley drink much?"  
  
"Some. But usually he went out to a pub or stayed in the study. He didn't like talking to anyone when he was drunk." The teen confessed quietly, giving Sirius an odd look. Resigned to the fact that it probably wasn't going to get any easier, Sirius slumped back so he had a better angle to watch his godson's face from.   
  
"Well, I like talkin' when I'm drunk. I get chatty."   
  
"Um…okay." Harry gave him another perplexed glance. "What do you want to talk about?"   
  
"This afternoon. I'm sorry I was houndin' you. And I _do_ care about you. And not just because you're the Boy Who Lived or because you're Jamie's kid." He focused his gaze on Harry, trying to convey without words how much he meant the words and realizing as he did so that he probably looked rather goofy doing so.   
  
"I'm sorry I talked back. It's just that...it's not like I've quit eating altogether. I still catch a meal here and there with you and Remus. I just don't have the same appetite I used to, you know? It's just that I get tired sometimes, and it just really doesn't seem worth the effort or the trouble. Try to understand-"  
  
"Oh, I understand. Probably better than you think. I've been there, too. I just don't want you to go to the same lengths I did." From the disgruntled look on Harry's face, it looked to Sirius as if the teen didn't appreciate his trying to identify much.   
  
"I'm just fine. You really shouldn't worry so much."  
  
"Ha."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"   
  
"It means I'm not buying it. You may have, but not me. I know that to you it looks like me and Remus are just two old guys who couldn't possibly understand what it is that you're going through. Hell, even if we were your age, you'd probably tell yourself we wouldn't understand because we don't live in the same spotlight you do as the Boy Who Lived. And maybe if it were just one of us, you'd be right. But between the two of us, I think we've got some clue of what you've got going against you."  
  
"How could you? I don't even know. I don't even get it." Harry's scowl was more than apparent in the moonlight.   
  
"Well, Remus, I think, understands notoriety better than you think. And I think that his stepfather was probably a lot like the Dursleys. We've read a bit about them, you know. And you did send me owls occasionally where you talked a little about what they were like..."  
  
"They're not nice people. So what?" Harry leaned back against the headboard, avoiding Sirius' gaze.   
  
"So I think that what they've said and done to you left marks. Look, not to get all mushy on you, but you figure out how to look at the world from your parents. And since they raised you...You and Remus don't exactly see the world right sometimes, is all I'm sayin'."   
  
"And you do?"   
  
"Sometimes. But that's not really what I wanted to talk about." He hedged.   
  
"Oh, you mean there was actually a point to all this?"   
  
"Why else would I be here?" He shot Harry and exasperated glance which the teen had no qualms about returning.   
  
"I don't know. You tell me. It's three in the morning and you smell like you just took a dip in a vat of fire whisky."   
  
"All right. I'll tell you."  
  
"Good. Then tell me."  
  
"Fine. I will." He blew out a puff air, and then tried to gather his thoughts a bit. "I'm here at three in the morning smelling like death warmed over because I wanted to talk with you about guilt." Well, that hadn't come out quite the way he'd wanted it to, but what the hell… "And feeling like what happened was all your fault and about thinking that everyone would be better off if you weren't around, but knowing at the same time that even if you left it wouldn't fix the hurt that they feel." He shot an uncertain look over at Harry to see how the teen was taking it. The calm, unemotional expression didn't bode well at all. "Harry..."  
  
"I don't want to talk about it." The expression took on mutinous tones so Sirius knew the teen meant what he said.   
  
"Fine. Let me do some talking then, and you can decide if I would understand or not." He offered.   
  
"Can't we just talk about it later?"   
  
"No." He could understand that Harry didn't want to acknowledge any of what was going on as a problem, but Sirius wasn't willing to just let things lie for a while. That and if he didn't do this now, chances were he'd chicken out. It wasn't something he liked talking about. Under any circumstances.   
  
"Sirius..."  
  
"Okay, look." Determinedly, he rolled the sleeves back off of his arms and held them out to Harry.   
  
"I don't see anything."   
  
Momentarily befuddled, he looked down at his arms as well, only to see nothing. Then he remembered that he'd glamoured them. "Whoops." Pulling out his wand he removed the spell, and then muttered a small spell to turn on a dim light. "There, now look."   
  
"What?" He could see the confusion on the teen's face as Harry looked down at the thin scars running from wrist to elbow on the insides of Sirius' arms.   
  
"This is what happens if you get stuck in that cycle of guilt, okay? I'm not proud of this. I'm not proud that I did this, or that I was reduced to that." He admitted softly, hating the slight tremor in his voice as he did so. Of all the things he could talk to Harry about, this was the one thing he wished he could have put off forever. He was supposed to be Harry's godfather; he was supposed to be stronger than this. He was _supposed_ to be providing the kid with a stable, nurturing environment not making the teen doubt his sanity and safety. "There's nothing romantic about suicide. It only hurts yourself, and hurts the people who depend on you even more."   
  
He could see the hesitation in Harry's stance, and in the way the teen was scooting cautiously towards him. He could recognize the kind of horrified fascination in those eyes, and he could tell that Harry wanted a better look. Taking the initiative, because from the looks of things, Harry was never going to, Sirius reached over and tugged Harry over beside him. Without waiting to see how Harry was reacting, he then threw an arm around those thin shoulders, and brought Harry's hand over to touch the scars lining one arm.   
  
"I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. In fact, up to this point it's pretty much been one fucking failure after another. I ruined my friendship with Remus and then made things worse by not understanding what I did and not trusting him-"  
  
"Does this have to do with Snape and the Shack?"   
  
"Yeah. But it goes farther than that. I made mistakes after we got out of school, too. I wanted so badly to help out with the Cause and get rid of You Know Who that I was rash and flighty. I was dangerous to everyone because I was something of a loose canon. I never saw it that way at the time, but in retrospect, my actions cost quite a few people their lives. Then there were your parents..."  
  
"You couldn't have known about Wormtail." Harry whispered softly, and Sirius let out a humorless chuckle.   
  
"If I'd been more careful, if I'd been more cautious...And if I hadn't already fucked everything up with Remus then maybe he would have been there instead of Pettigrew. It doesn't matter how many times I look at it, or from what angle I try...it always boils down to the whole thing being my fault. And that's not something I can ever forget."   
  
"But it wasn't exactly your fault."   
  
"Maybe. Maybe not. It just felt that no matter what I did, I'd never be able to make it up to them. Jamie and Lily are gone, and nothing I do will ever be able to bring them back. I couldn't even be there for you since I was locked up in Azkaban. When I wasn't there, I was on the run, and once again, couldn't be there for you. And Remus…Remus will never forgive me for what I did to him. I guess that the more I looked at myself the less I could see that was worthy of anything. Azkaban didn't help any either. If anything, it just made me crazier than I already was. That's probably the truth. Your godfather's a complete wacko. You'd have been much better off with Remus as a godfather."   
  
"Don't say that."   
  
"Harry..."  
  
"It wasn't your fault. You can't help it if Voldemort's a complete freak. None of any of this would have happened if it weren't for him. _You_ didn't kill anyone. He did. He and Pettigrew. And I know you wanted to be there for me. I also know why you can't always be around. I'd rather have you safe. And Remus should have forgiven you. Or at least given you another chance. I mean, people make mistakes. You aren't perfect. No one is." Harry finally broke off angrily. Sirius managed a small smile before lightly squeezing Harry's shoulder.   
  
"When you get to the places I got to when I did this," he motioned down at his scars, "well, you aren't thinking straight. If all it took was rational thought to stop being depressed, a lot less people would be." He gave a self-depreciating laugh.   
  
"It took a lot of _long_ talks with Dumbledore before I could even consider it that way. And even then, I'm not completely guilt free in this, I was responsible for the things I did and said...But anyway, don't you think that some of what you just said couldn't be applied to you as well?" So that had been a bit heavy handed, but he was drunk. And there really wasn't a delicate way to bring up the things that had happened to Harry.   
  
"I...it's different."   
  
"How?"  
  
"I promised him. Ron, I mean." Harry's voice was barely a whisper. "I told him I'd watch out for her…Ginny. I told him that Voldemort would have to go through me before he could get to her. I _bragged_ about it. Acted like I was so strong and not afraid of anything. _God_, how could I have been so stupid, Sirius?"   
  
"It wasn't your fault." He murmured into Harry's hair.   
  
"It doesn't feel that way."   
  
Sirius curled the arm tighter as the teen turned in against his shoulder, shuddering hard with repressed emotion. "You couldn't have known what was going to happen. You couldn't have known that she was going to die."  
  
"Don't you see, though? It doesn't matter if I knew or not. I was supposed to take care of her, keep her safe and all that." He could feel Harry's tears seeping through his shirt, and he welcomed them. At least the teen was getting some of it out of his system. "He's never going to forgive me."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Ron. His whole family. All of them. And I can't say that I blame them."   
  
There wasn't anything that Sirius could say to comfort him, and he knew it. He couldn't promise that the Weasleys would eventually understand, he couldn't promise that Ron would forgive him. He couldn't even promise that things would eventually be all right. All he could do was rub comforting circles in Harry's back and be supportive as the teen cried into his shoulder.  
  
"I still hear her screaming in my dreams. It just goes on and on and on, and I can't make it stop. I couldn't make _him_ stop. It's like she dies screaming over and over again. And each time I know, I _know_ that there's nothing I can do to stop it from happening."   
  
"Shhh, Harry. It wasn't your fault..."  
  
Eventually, Harry dropped off into an exhausted sleep.   
  
*****


	4. Of Figuring Out the Past for the Future

*****  
"Remus? 'S that you?" The words were low, and slightly slurred. Turning from his vantage point on the porch, Remus watched Sirius inch his way out towards the railing he was leaning on.   
  
"What are you still doing up?" Not quite the question he'd intended to ask, but he was tired. He'd been attempting sleep since nine, and somewhere around two or so, he'd given up on the endeavor. His knee was throbbing, and the sensation was keeping him awake. Well, that and a few choice thoughts that kept circulating through his head.   
  
"Wanted to talk to Harry."  
  
"Was he awake?" He raised an eyebrow as Sirius stopped uncomfortably close to him and leaned against the rail.   
  
"I woke him up."  
  
"It's almost dawn."  
  
"Well, I did have to get drunk first." Sirius stated as if it were the most logical thing in the world.   
  
  
"Oh." There didn't seem to be anything else he could say in return.   
  
"He's worried about Ron forgiving him for what happened. And I couldn't tell him that things were going to be okay. 'Cause they really might not be, you know. This is all such a big mess."   
  
"It's not important that Ron forgives him. He has to forgive himself." Remus offered nervously, edging a bit to the side and out of Sirius' immediate proximity. It wouldn't pay to get too close to Sirius. It only brought up old longings, heartaches and regrets.  
  
"Oh, no I think it's important to him that Ron forgives him. You taught them for a year. You know how close they are. They're like we were…once upon a time." Deep blue eyes bore down on him and Remus quickly turned his gaze away. Yeah, once upon a time, having those eyes looking down at him with that kind intensity would have thrilled him beyond dreams. But now?  
  
"With us it was different."   
  
"How?"  
  
"I'm going back inside." He turned to brush past the other man. He wasn't going to stand out here and have this conversation with Sirius. The past was the past. He couldn't change it. Sirius couldn't change it. And some things just couldn't be redeemed. Besides, it wasn't like Sirius cared anyway.   
  
All Sirius wanted was his old partner in crime back. The shy kid who tagged along and would agree to anything, no matter how daring it sounded, if just to be included. Sirius wanted the thrill, the adrenaline rush maybe, of being around a dark creature. Sirius had never taken safety or danger or anything seriously. Fighting for the Cause was just one big adventure after another to him. And Remus didn't have the time or the patience or the heart to be around someone who had such great potential to hurt him all over again.  
  
"Maybe it was different with us." Sirius spoke softly, but the hand clamped on Remus' arm wasn't. "Maybe I made mistakes. Maybe I was young and stupid and didn't realize my own mortality. Maybe I took advantage of our friendship." Sirius backed him up against the wall beside the front door. "Maybe nothing I ever do will be able to convince you how sorry I am for what happened. Maybe you don't care anyway."   
  
"Sirius…" Those intense eyes focused on him. "What the hell do you care what I think? It's never bothered you before."   
  
"That's not true."   
  
"Yes, yes it is." Remus snapped back, getting ready to push Sirius back. "You always mean well. You never do it on purpose. But you know what, I don't care if you mean it or not, it hurts all the same. And if you think I'm going to just…" Remus laughed. It wasn't a nice, gentle sound but something more nasty and vindictive. "Get real."   
  
"Remus, I..." Sirius' shook his head for a moment, and when those dark blue eyes focused on him again, it was with determination. Remus moved to back up, but came up short against the wall again as Sirius bent in pressing his lips against Remus'. Hands ran lightly up Remus' arms before coming to a rest at his shoulders and bodily pulling him up against Sirius' chest.   
  
It was heaven and hell all wrapped up in the same sensation. And it scared the shit out of him.   
  
How fucking dare he. The man had to get smashed before he found Remus appealing? He had to get fucking drunk before the thought of Remus as a sexual creature would even enter his mind? Well hell, why not? Fucking a werewolf had to be the ultimate thrill, right? Growling, he shoved Sirius off of him, sparing the black haired gypsy an icy glare in the process. "Stay away from me, Black. I mean it."   
  
"Remus…" Imploring, apologetic glances that Remus doubted he could ever truly mean.  
  
"Go fuck a tree or something if you're that desperate." He snarled before striding back into the house and leaving Sirius staring, the first rays of the morning sun outlining his lonely figure.   
  
Some things a person just couldn't change. He knew.   
  
*****  
  
_Summer before 7th year_  
  
Rule number 8 million-and-who-the-fuck-cared about being a werewolf: Don't drink.   
  
It seemed to him that he was always learning new things about werewolves. None of the books he'd ever stumbled across had ever been too terribly accurate. He was sure it had everything to do with the fact that the basic werewolf had no rights. And of course, he was equally certain that all those so-called experts, the scholars who had done so much supposed research, had never listened to what the _real_ experts had to say. He wondered if they'd even _seen_ a werewolf in their illustrious careers for all that they seemed to know.   
  
He rolled slightly to the side, aching all over as he did so. He'd only had a pint, but apparently that was just enough to lower inhibitions. That was something else he'd had to glean on his own about werewolves. Part of being a werewolf meant accepting that all his impulses lay close to the surface. The full moon brought out instincts, desires and wants, all of it in their purest, undiluted forms. Maybe it was part of why people feared them so. Because in the werewolf they saw something about themselves that they did much like.   
  
Or maybe it was just that whole 'rend them from limb to limb' bit. He gave a self-depreciating snort.  
  
His chest itched, but when he moved to scratch it, his fingers ran into the bandage. Of course. His brand new tattoo. The thought made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. Fucking ministry thought they could dictate his every move, his every thought, his every desire simply because they'd made a _law_ about it?   
  
Fuck them. Fuck them all.   
  
His sire, his werewolf sire, had been some nameless, unregistered muggle. Or that was all the ministry had been able to determine after they'd shot the man through the heart. Officials had been just in time from saving him from being mauled to death by the creature. They hadn't, however, been there in time to save his father. And he'd only been two years old. He was the youngest registered werewolf on their records in the history of the Ministry.   
  
Sometimes, days when he was locked up in his room while his muggle stepsiblings ran around, he wondered how his mother had taken the news. Because he could see it in her eyes sometimes as she looked at his stepbrother or his stepsister. To her, _those_ kids were human.   
  
When she looked at him? In her eyes, he imagined that he was not much better than the poor man who had ripped his father's jugular out. Sometimes, when he was being more fanciful, he wondered if maybe she blamed him for living where his father hadn't. If she loved him at all, it was probably because it was a mother's duty to love her son.   
  
Ah, but that realization hadn't come for years.   
  
He stretched, recognizing as he did so that he was completely naked. And that parts of him ached that really shouldn't ache. He stopped up short for a moment, trying to remember what had happened.   
  
It came rushing back with force as he turned to look at the other side of the bed. For a split second he thought it was Sirius. The hair color, the skin tone, the stature was all right. But the scent was all wrong. Not that it mattered. Then or now.   
  
"Hey sweetcheeks, awake are you?" The eyes were brown instead of Sirius' midnight blue. So he just stared. "You were an animal last night."  
  
"Hmm." He let out a dry laugh at the words, but there was no humor to it. "I have to go." His voice sounded cold, and he knew that after what they'd just done he should be nicer. Hell, since it'd been his first time, he should at least be indulging in some sort of afterglow. But the whole thing only made him sick to his stomach.   
  
"But..."   
  
Remus didn't wait to hear the rest. Grabbing his clothes, he shut himself up in the bathroom, dressing as quickly as possible. He'd always suspected that the whole mating for life was just a romantic notion. After all, not even wolves mated for life, why would werewolves? He felt nothing for the man lying in the bed in the other bedroom. Except for maybe the remnants of guilt for having used him so callously.   
  
But then again, since the world loved to chew him up and spit him back out continuously, what the fuck did he care? If the guy couldn't tell last night that Remus was drunk out of his mind, then he got what he deserved. Letting people in on your most intimate moments, letting them do things to you that you wouldn't let anyone else do...you deserved what was coming to you if you underestimated them or the situation. Or both.   
  
And if you were a werewolf? He chuckled to himself, almost hating the harsh sound of it as it echoed against the bathroom walls. God, if you were a werewolf then they were practically obligated to rip your emotional self to shreds. His family had no qualms about it. He kept giving them chances, kept trying to insinuate himself into that tight circle they'd made for themselves...And they kept slapping him away.   
  
_"Mama, Remus is out of his cage again."  
~~~  
"What do you think you're doing, werewolf? Put that down."  
~~~  
"Ugh. What'd you hug me for?! Yuck. Now I've got to take another bath. Thanks a lot."  
~~~  
"Honey, you know we'd take you with us, but…well, you know that we can't because you're...you know."  
~~~  
"Don't sass your mother. She could have disowned you completely for what you are. Show a little gratitude that she's been as kind to you as she has..."   
~~~  
"No. Of course you can't play with us. Get a check on reality for god's sake. Look around, okay? _No one_ wants to be near you, Remus. You're disgusting."_  
  
Only a fool would have continued to supply them with arteries from which they could draw blood. And he wasn't a fool; he'd learned quickly that he couldn't trust them with anything personal that could be used to hurt him.   
  
Trust wasn't something that he'd ever given easily. He'd tried, he really had. But having it betrayed once was their fault, twice was a coincidence, three times and it was his fault for ever having trusted anyone in the first place. His fault for ever leaving so much of himself open and vulnerable. He just never seemed to learn. _Well_, he thought to the specter of Sirius in the other room, _I'm fucking you over this time before you can fuck me over again._   
  
Unfortunately, it didn't make him feel any better. He slid to the dirty tiled floor, shaking with all the tears he'd never let fall.   
  
*****  
  
"What're you guys doing up so late?" Harry asked blearily as he stumbled into the kitchen. Judging from the huge shirt and the baggy shorts, a shopping trip was in order, Sirius decided idly as he watched his godson plop down tiredly in the chair beside him.   
  
Remus, who had been successfully ignoring him for the last hour, gave Harry a small smile before returning his gaze to the book he was reading.   
  
"Well, Lupin here is reading a book. And I'm having a good old time talking to the tabletop." He answered irritably before Remus shot him a glare over the edge of the book.   
  
"We were waiting up for you." Of course Remus was calm and collected about the whole thing. Sirius crossed his arms and counted silently to himself in attempts to reign in his temper. Harry had left that afternoon, stating that the whole bloody tattoo business was something he had to do on his own.   
  
He'd objected heavily, citing every reason under the sun for why it wasn't a good idea. But that hadn't seemed to faze either Harry or Remus. In the end, Harry had gone and Sirius had spent the afternoon in the barn explaining to Buckbeak that he only had Harry's best interests at heart and that he just didn't want anything to happen to the teen.   
  
"What took you so long?" He snapped, and the same old guarded look crept back into Harry's face as Remus glared.   
  
"Sirius' just been worried, is all." Remus reached over and shook Harry's shoulder lightly. The look of disbelief on Harry's face at the pronouncement was almost too much for Sirius.   
  
"Well of course I was worried! Regardless of what you two think, a lot could have gone wrong. What if Death Eaters had found him? What if he'd gotten hit by a car or something? What if you'd gotten hurt, Harry?" He rounded on the wide-eyed teen. "We wouldn't have had the first clue where to look for you. Damn it all, I don't want anything bad to happen to you too!" He could hear himself beginning to rant illogically, so he closed his eyes for a second and took in a deep breath. "I'm sorry I yelled." He muttered, a bit sullenly. Remus glared at him once more, but he'd resolved somewhere around dinnertime to not look at Remus anymore. It just hurt too fucking much.   
  
"I missed a bus is all. That's why I didn't get back earlier. I didn't mean to make you worry."   
  
"Did you have any other problems besides that?" Leave it to Remus to sound so...pragmatic about the whole thing. His godson had just gone out to get what was probably going to end up looking like the most horribly tasteless tattoo ever, and _Remus_ was acting like Harry had just returned from tea or something.   
  
"It stung a little. And I ended up asking for something a bit smaller than I originally wanted, but it was more the thought that counted, if you know what I mean. Itches something fierce though." Harry tried to reach back over to scratch the middle of his back, and for a moment, Sirius was amused by the contortions his godson was trying to go through to get to the spot.   
  
"Ha, ha. You think this is funny, you should have seen what I had to go through to get the bandage off."  
  
"Oh, for the love of…C'mere." He finally announced, a grin on his face as he contradicted himself and got up. Walking over to Harry, he motioned the teen to his feet and gave a few gentle scratches at Harry's directions. "Let's get a look at this tattoo of yours." The teen gave a small, if nervous grin as he shrugged awkwardly out of his shirt.   
  
It was small. But not impossibly so. The whole thing fit neatly between the teen's shoulder blades, the words in green and outlined heavily in black. Okay, so maybe it wasn't so bad. In fact, in a way, it really was rather funny, he decided. "Wicked. Hey, have a look, Remus." He lightly shoved Harry around so Remus could get a glimpse.   
  
"So you aren't mad at me for getting it done anyway?" Harry asked him.  
  
"Naw, it looks pretty cool." He winked, loving the genuine smile that lit Harry's face at the words.   
  
"Harry, how'd you get these?" Remus' voice sounded tense, maybe even a bit strained, and Sirius frowned as Harry turned his head to look over his shoulder at Remus.   
  
"Get what? Oh, those..."  
  
He could see Remus' fingers trailing lightly over the small of Harry's back, and curiously, he leaned over toward the two of them, catching just the smallest glace of a few tiny silverlike scars against the tan skin.   
  
"Just an accident. It's no big deal, really." Harry added quickly, stepping just out of both of their immediate reaches and grabbing his shirt.   
  
"If you say so." He managed dubiously since it seemed that Remus was glued in place.   
  
"Yeah, just a couple of old scars. It's been years since I thought of them. Forgot they were even there." There was an edginess to the look in Harry's eyes, and it was apparent to Sirius at least, that this wasn't something that the teen had _ever_ forgotten.   
  
"Really." He returned, rather innocuously, sensing that this probably wasn't the best of times to get into the whole issue behind everyone's apparent distress.   
  
"Yeah, Ron never even noticed them." The words popped out almost automatically, but as soon as they were said, Harry's face fell. "I mean, he didn't notice them back when we were still…talking and all, you know. And the rest of the Weasleys never said anything either, so they can't be all that obvious, right? They aren't pretty or anything, but they're not fucking huge, okay?! I can't help it that they're there. I can't help it that shit like that always happens around me. I never fucking _asked_ for any of this! It just _happens_!" Harry had gone from outward calm to bordering on hysterically-out-of-control in just a few seconds.  
  
Sirius turned to see what Remus was going to do, only to see the pained look on Remus' face and the tense flightiness of his stance. Damn, they were all slowly going insane. Reaching out, he lightly grabbed Harry's arm and the teen flinched noticeably at the contact.   
  
"We know, Harry." He kept his voice low and moderated, pulling Harry slowly up into a light embrace as the teen's eyes got a glassy sheen to them. "You've had a long day, what'd'ya say we call it a night, all right?" He murmured softly. Mutely, Harry nodded in return.   
  
He shot a glance over at Remus, but the man had already turned his back slightly to them in favor of sitting back down at the kitchen table. Long, tapered fingers were digging roughly into that graying brown-gold hair though, so he knew Remus wasn't as unaffected by this as he was pretending to be.   
  
Grabbing Harry's shirt, he walked the teen down the hall to his bedroom. "Harry...I know it doesn't seem fair to you, what the Weasleys are doing. And it's not. It's downright rotten of them. You don't deserve to have them shun you for this. But grief makes people do strange things, all right? Try to keep that in mind. Someday they're going to regret all the things they've said..." He shouldn't even be promising the kid that, but the words came out any way.   
  
"G'night, Sirius." Arms wrapped tentatively around him, and Sirius pulled the teen into a bear hug in response. Squeezing tightly before gently releasing.  
  
"Love you, Harry." He whispered softly, almost inaudibly before stepping back and letting the tired teen retreat back to his bed. "Sweet dreams." He whispered and then closed the door.   
  
The planked floor of the hallway was almost ice cold against his bare feet as he padded back into the kitchen. Remus hadn't moved an inch since he'd left, and the air about the man annoyed Sirius. Remus was forever closed off. Completely inaccessible.   
  
"So..." he drawled out, deliberately ignoring the way that Remus' glare, and then indifference, cut at him. "Care to explain what all that was about?"   
  
"No." From the quirked eyebrow, Sirius could sense the 'not to you' portion that was missing from the sentence. He took a moment to just stare at Remus. Maybe even reminisce a bit.   
  
The painful shyness that had been so much a part of Moony's persona was still there; only it had changed slightly into the 'quiet, friendly professor' over these last years. And the imp of the perverse still lurked in there, just behind those amber eyes. Sirius had caught a glimpse or two of him in the last two weeks. The same mischievousness that had lent Remus to devising the Marauder's Map their third year was the same that had inspired the somewhat odd logical endorsement of Harry's tattoo.  
  
"Moony..."  
  
"I told you not to call me that!" Remus' volatile outburst more than startled him, and blinking dazedly, Sirius slumped into the chair across from him. The action in itself seemed to be enough to spur Remus into jumping out of his own.   
  
"I'm not Moony, anymore. There are no childish nicknames between us, okay? I'm not your buddy-buddy, I'm not you little hump toy when you're drunk, and I'm not your excuse for an adrenaline rush! I don't appreciate being slobbered on while I'm standing on the front porch. I don't appreciate your baiting me for cheap thrills. And I don't want to remember the way things used to be, because you know, they _aren't_ like they used to be. I…why do you have to make this so hard, Sirius? "   
  
The words tore viciously at him. Remus couldn't possibly think that about him…couldn't possibly think that Sirius felt that way about him. Oh, but the evidence was staring him straight back in the face. Remus was disgusted by him, couldn't stand the sight of him, wished that they never had been given this assignment together...  
  
"Remus, I...I never..." He could make the words form in his head, let alone pass through his lips.  
  
"Just save it. Save it for some other poor idiot who will be more than willing to be taken in by it all. Just leave me out of it." The distrust was more than apparent on Remus' features. Features that Sirius had memorized years ago, long before he'd ever realized why. Features that had once looked at him with warmth and affection, curiosity and excitement.   
  
Maybe the Moony he had once known was gone, and in his place was an infinitely more cynical version of Remus that he'd more than helped to create.   
  
With a flourish, Remus stormed out of the kitchen, banging the backdoor in his fury to get out of the confines of the house. The bangs sounded like a death knell to Sirius. Empty, hollow sounds that echoed lightly before disappearing altogether into the void. Like all the good in everything he'd ever touched, vanishing with nothing left to show for it.   
  
Remus hated him. Maybe he should just give in and accept it.  
  
After all, Remus couldn't hate him for all that had happened more than he already hated himself.

*****  
  
Sirius woke, hours later, no more refreshed than before and with a few indents on his forehead from where the placemats on the table had dug into his skin. Remus' words had cut deep. Deeper than he cared to acknowledge, and the effort to push it out of his mind had left him exhausted. Although, how he'd even managed the small catnap inside the house, he wasn't entirely certain. He'd only put his head down for a moment, closing his eyes so that he wouldn't have to watch the world shake as the tremors ran through his body.   
  
Sleeping in confined spaces...in the back of caves, rooms, houses, all of it had been beyond him since leaving Azkaban. He'd tried, God only knew how hard he'd tried, but every time the memory of dementors lurking just behind doors, or of them sneaking in sometimes to caress a cheek, or of them wafting tendrils of fear in to invade his already demented dreams; kept him edgy and wide awake.  
  
Even in the barn he sometimes felt too claustrophobic. On those nights, he'd taken to sleeping under the old maple beside the porch. It wasn't a comfortable arrangement by any stretch of the imagination. But at least he was able to steal the needed hours of sleep.  
  
Wearily, he climbed to his feet and headed for the back door. It was odd that he hadn't heard Remus come back in, but then again, from the reaction the other man had given him early, it didn't surprise Sirius. Remus obviously wanted nothing to do with him. He'd made that abundantly clear.   
  
He wasn't even sure why he tried anymore. Maybe Remus had the right of it by leaving all the ugly things of the past behind. Leaving old friends behind. Maybe the gap between them was just too big for him to ever cross.   
  
Stepping out into the open air, he felt mild relief wash over him. It may be dark, particularly since the moon was just the barest of slivers in the sky, but it was _open_. It was a quality in the air that just couldn't be disguised. Especially in the countryside like this. Sighing, he shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered into the barn.  
  
"Sirius?" His head jerked up as Remus' low voice called his name. "We can't keep going on like we have."   
  
For a moment, Sirius' heart jumped radically, taking in Remus' relaxed stance against the box stall Buckbeak was currently housed in. Maybe, just maybe, he'd been too quick to give up on the idea of their friendship at least. "What did you have in mind?"  
  
"I don't know. Just something different. We can't keep snapping at each other like we have, it's not good for Harry." The thoughtful professor guise was solidly in place. As if Remus were being so rational, being the bigger, better man for offering to put their differences aside.   
  
For Harry. Remus wanted him to pretend to play nice. Pretend that everything was perfect between them. Well it wasn't, and Sirius wasn't going to fabricate for anyone, let alone his godson.   
  
"For _Harry_? What do our disagreements have to do with him?" He asked quietly, trying to resist the urge to scream, or rant, or breakdown completely.   
  
"He needs stability. He needs both of us there for him, or we wouldn't have both been assigned to this." Remus made it sound so logical, and for a moment Sirius hated him for it. Hated knowing that for Remus, spending time here was just part and parcel of some mission assigned by Dumbledore. He hated knowing, that if given the choice, Remus would have chosen to spend his time as far away from Sirius as he could get. That if given the choice, Remus would have opted to look after Harry by himself.   
  
"So he has us both, what do you care if we don't get along?" He closed his eyes, leaning back against the barn wall so he didn't have to watch Remus' face as he responded.   
  
"Look, this can't _be_ about us, all right? It's about _him_. We can't be so at odds that his loyalties feel torn between us. Can't you just leave the past where it belongs?" He could hear the underlying accusation in the tone. He knew that if he looked over right now, Remus' face would be calm, reasonable. The epitome of control.   
  
"I don't know, can you?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Can you leave the past where it belongs?" He snapped this time, whirling around to face the man. "I agree that this is about Harry. There's no question about that, but it's about _us_ too. Everything he's going through...aren't they all things that we've been through?"  
  
"That's not what I meant." The steel was there in Remus' eyes as he stubbornly met Sirius' gaze. "You keep trying to push things back to the way they used to be. I'm not the same idiot now that I was then."  
  
"_Neither am I_!" He roared, unable to hold it back. "I made a _mistake_." His voice cracked on the last word, but Remus' face was impassive, unemotional.   
  
"What do you want me to say? That you're forgiven? You are. You have been for years. What is it that you want, congratulations for finally realizing that you're fallible?" Had he been able to look past his own pain at the words, he might have been able to recognize the pain in Remus'. But it just hurt too much...  
  
"You _forgive_ me? Excuse me if I don't believe you on that score, because from where I'm standing, you're still holding a pretty heavy grudge."  
  
"I forgive you, but I don't trust you. I forgive you, but that doesn't make me your friend. Because there was a time when I trusted you, there was a time when you were the best thing I had in my life…" Remus gave a humorless laugh, and the sound grated at Sirius. "So you made a bloody mistake. That doesn't make things right between us. I can't, what's more I _won't_, go back to that." The cold façade of Remus' face cracked slightly just before he turned to stalk out of the barn.   
  
"Did I ask you for that? Have I _ever_ asked you to go back to what we were before?"   
  
"I'm not having this conversation with you."   
  
"No, you started this." He reached over, grabbing Remus' arm and pulling him back around. "You want us to put our differences aside? What is it that you want from me, Remus? I can't undo what's already been done. All I can do is try and make amends. But you won't even let me do that..."  
  
"You just don't get it." Remus' face was a mixture of hurt and anger. In all honesty, Sirius couldn't even say he blamed him for it. But he couldn't live with this all locked inside his head anymore. He'd already tried that. Had _been_ trying that. And it was getting him nowhere. Not to say that this was helping, but it had to be better than going through the motions of every day with the words all left unsaid between them.   
  
"I wouldn't presume to tell you that I get it. Or you, half the time. You're not an easy man to figure out. You never have been. But damn it all, I'm _trying_. Divination was never my best subject, you know. I can't guess what's on your mind, and I can't guess what you're feeling or what you've been through. But every time I tried to ask…then or now, you shut me out." He bit out roughly, shaking Remus slightly in the process. Remus' amber eyes had taken on a wild look that bordered on trapped.   
  
"Some things should just be apparent. I shouldn't have to point them out."  
  
"Sure, inadvertently blurting out that your best friend's a werewolf should have been apparent to me. I spent thirteen _years_ in Azkaban reliving that betrayal and understanding what it was that I'd done that had turned you against me. In a way, I was no better than Pettigrew. The only difference I could ever see between the two of us was that I never meant to hurt you, or even Snape, for that matter. I didn't do it maliciously. It was an _accident_. I didn't set out thinking to myself 'Oh gee, how can I fuck over the most beautiful person I've ever known'." He forced his mouth to quit moving before he said anything more he could be made to regret in the future.   
  
"Sirius, I..." Remus trailed off, and the barn descended into silence as Remus looked uncomfortably away. _Well, of course he would, you idiot._ Squeezing his eyes shut, Sirius took a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. Remus didn't need a reminder of his drunken, unwanted advance on the porch. And Sirius didn't really needed to be reminded of how much those thoughts, _those_ affections probably affronted Remus' sensibilities. The last thing that anyone needed in this world was someone like him drooling all over them.   
  
"I've tried everything in my power to make it up to you in the last two years I've been free. I've written letters that you return over and over again. I've tried to arrange for meetings where we can just sit and talk. I got desperate and tried bribing. I tried to protect you, even though you made it clear you didn't want or need my help. I…I've tried things I don't even want to think about, let alone talk about. But nothing works. _Tell_ me what it is you want from me." He demanded softly.   
  
"I don't want anything-"  
  
"Don't tell me you don't want anything!" The words came out in an angry rush. "Because we both know it's not true. You want your pound of flesh out of me? Was Azkaban not enough? Even if that's the truth, I'd rather you tell me that then lie to me, or brush me off. But you're not going to, are you. You won't even tell me what all that in the kitchen was about." He flung an arm out in frustration, making Remus jump slightly.   
  
"Can't you just let it go?" Remus' voice was soft. Moderated, serene even. Sirius didn't even know why he was surprised. He really shouldn't have been, he'd at least figured out this much about Remus.  
  
"I should, shouldn't I."   
  
"Let go, Sirius."  
  
With an inward sob, Sirius did just that as he released Remus' arm. He forced himself to turn into the barn wall, hiding his eyes, so he wouldn't have to watch Remus walk away from him.   
  
Yet again.   
  
*****


	5. Of Similarities

"Harry, about last night…"

"Did you want scrambled eggs or sunny side up?"

"Er…it doesn't matter. Either one. About last night-"

"Is Sirius coming in for breakfast?"

"I doubt it. Harry, can you put that down for a second and just talk to me?"

"If I leave it, the eggs will burn."

"Yes, well, be that as it may…"

"I was just tired last night is all. Really, you shouldn't make so much out of it."

"About your back though-"

"You want toast with the eggs? And I think we've got Juice, unless you want milk or water-" 

"_Harry_…I know how you got those scars."

"Really…well bully for you, I know how I got them too. Here's your breakfast. I have to go wake up Sirius."

"Wait, damn it Harry, wait-"

*slam*

***** 

_After Yule Break, 7th Year_

His back hurt like a bitch. 

It might hurt less, of course, if he'd chosen not to lie on it. Or if he'd opted for his soft, warm bed up in the tower instead of the lumpy, ripped apart sofa here in the shack. God, but he was feeling contrary tonight. Fuck the tower and his warm bed. The sofa and all the springs digging into the bruises and cuts on his lower back suited him just fine. 

It was another reminder of sorts. A reminder that he wasn't going 'home' again. Not that anyone there would care too terribly much if he decided to fall off the face of the planet. And he refused to let himself care if they did the same. 

He'd made himself a vow at the train station last night as he waited by himself to board. He wasn't going to give the man another opportunity. Granted, it had only happened a grand total of ten times in the past. It wasn't like it was a regular occurrence or anything, and it wasn't like he hadn't instigated most of the sessions…

_"Dumbledore wrote to us about that Snape kid. How could you have been so careless?!" _

_"What, you think I fucking invited them over? 'Hey, I'm about to turn into a vicious snarling beast, why don't we all sit down for some tea and cake?' Please." *snort*_

_"You think this is a _joke_? You arrogant little prick. You're a danger even to those closest to you."_

_"Fuck off."_

_"You'll learn responsibility for your disease if I have to beat it into your goddamned head."_

Fucking Bastard. Fucking belt wielding, "I'm God and you're a worthless piece of shit" bastard.

He was never going to put himself in that kind of position again. Not for anyone. 

"Remus? Remus are you in there?" He could hear Jamie call hesitantly, and he strained to keep his mouth shut. Of all the marauders, Jamie was the one who seemed to be the worst at getting a clue or taking a hint. It wasn't Prongs, Padfoot, Wormtail and Moony anymore. And nothing anyone said to him was going to change that. "Remus, I know you're in here."

"Bloody fucking map." He muttered to himself as Jamie hesitantly stood in the doorway to the small room, sheet of paper in hand. "Worst fucking thing I ever invented." 

"I know what you're trying to do, you know." Jamie stated softly. He could feel the teen's eyes on him as he turned away form him and snorted. He doubted any of the marauders, let alone the whole fucking school, had any clue as to what he was trying to do. Or why he was doing it. Half the time, he didn't know what the reasons were himself. 

"Do you now." He murmured in a spot of indulgence. 

"You're pushing us all away because of what happened last year." 

"Figured that out, did you?" He almost hated the sneer in his voice as he spit the words out. Jamie hadn't done anything to deserve his contempt, or his anger, or his spite. The only thing he could find fault with was that Jamie wasn't a werewolf. And as much as he would love to believe that Jamie might understand, he knew now that it wasn't even an option.  

"Look, I get that you don't think that I could possibly understand what you're going through. And maybe you're right-"

"Jamie, I know I'm right." He managed with a weary sigh, shoving his hair out of his face. "Just do us all a favor and let it be. Leave me be."

"I can't do that!" Jamie snapped back. "Can't we just sit down and talk this out and get things back to normal between us all?"

Remus decided not to even dignify that with an answer. Jamie meant well. He always meant well. There was an openness about the other teen that he didn't even bother to hide. It wasn't by accident that he'd become head boy. He was popular. And while his family might not be rich, he was never left wanting for much. Past that, Jamie's parents were any kid's dream come to life. 

If it weren't for the shadow of Voldemort, Jamie's life would be pretty damn near perfect. Was it so much of a jump for him to assume that maybe Jamie wouldn't have the first clue as to what it might be like to live Remus' life? 

And for all that Jaime cared…Jaime still thought the ministry infallible. Still thought that the good guys always won in the end. That bad things didn't happen to good people. There wasn't any arguing with that kind of idealism, and Remus didn't even really want to try. 

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." Jamie murmured. He looked up suddenly to see the apology written there in Jamie's features. "I should have gotten there sooner. Then none of this would have happened. You'd still be talking to Sirius, we'd all still be at our old games, and things wouldn't be so blasted _tense_ all the time."

"Jamie," He said slowly, easing himself off the sofa and ignoring the protests his back gave. "It wouldn't have mattered if you'd stopped Snape all the way back in the dungeons. This—all this between us—has nothing to do with whether or not I came close to killing Snape. This is about trust."

"If you'd just _talk_ to Sirius…" Jamie pleaded. 

"What, so he can _charm_ himself back into my good graces?" He glared back contemptuously and Jaime flushed slightly in anger.

"So he's charming. Rem, he's sincere."

Maybe last year he would have agreed. Maybe last year he would have thought that he knew Sirius well enough to confidently make that kind of assessment. After all, he's spent thousands of countless stolen moments covertly watching the beautiful teen, memorizing every aspect of his expression. Knowing, even as he was doing so that he was treading a fine line between feeling friendship…and something more. 

Maybe he had thought that he'd become something of an expert on Sirius when he finally admitted to himself that he'd fallen, and fallen hard, for the one teen in Hogwarts who would never be tied down to any one person. Maybe back then he'd even convinced himself that Sirius was the perfect person for someone like him to fall in love with. Maybe he'd figured that even if Sirius didn't love him back that their friendship would be strong enough to survive it.

Maybe he'd had everything he'd ever known about Sirius flipped upside down. 

 "So he'd like you to think." He finally said softly, slowly. " 'To charm', it's a verb you see. It's not something you _are_. It's something you _do_. 'Charming' someone is all about telling them what they want to hear, what they want to believe. It's all about subtlety manipulating people so that they do what _you_ want them to do." He gingerly lay back down on the sofa, closing his eyes as he propped his bare feet up on the lopsided arm. 

"That's so…cynical." He could hear the bafflement in Jaime's voice. "When did you get to be so pessimistic?" 

"Wake up, Jamie. I've always been like this."

"No, no you haven't. You've changed." 

"If that's what you'd like to believe." He said softly, as he listened to Jamie shift his feet slightly on the dirt floor. "I'm staying down here for the night, so you might as well get back to your duties." He gently reminded. 

"So nothing I say is going to-"

"Nothing is going to change my mind." 

"Well," Jaime blew out a defeated sigh, "Good night, Rem." 

Remus listened to the head boy's footsteps retreat out of the shack, listened to the willow stop thrashing for a moment, and then listened to it resume again. And as the sound of the night filtered in through the small skylight he whispered to himself, "Good night, Prongs." 

*****

"Why _should_ I talk to you about it?" There was a hard edge to Harry's eyes as the teen shot him a warning glare before going back to calmly washing the dishes. 

**_"What do you care, Sirius? Why should I tell you anything?"_**

"Because I care, because I want to help. Because it's a part of who you are and you're just letting it fester. Do you really want me to go on?" He reminded himself once again that he possessed more patience than most people, and that he'd had an entire year's worth of teaching under his belt to prove it. All he had to do was exercise it now with Harry. Although, if the teen calmly dodged, changed the subject or flat out walked away one more time he was seriously going to consider hexing the kid's feet to the floor until they talked it out. 

"I'm dealing with it. It's the same way I deal with anything. And as much as I appreciate your concern and your offer for help, I don't need it." The polite, distant words were followed up by a mild splash as Harry plunked another plate into the sink. 

 **"It's nothing I can't handle. I've been through worse. I don't need your concern or your pity…"**

"You're dealing with it? How? The same way you're dealing with what happened this past year? Because I can assure you that it's not working all that well for you…" Remus almost groaned aloud as the words left his mouth. It was a low blow and he knew it. But nothing else was getting through to Harry. 

"So what do you suggest? That I should go running to you or Sirius or Dumbledore and expect you to solve all my problems? God, if I wanted to be patted on the head and be told that it wasn't my fault or that I didn't deserve it or that it's all going to turn out all right in the end I'd go pick up a kiddie book from the library." Harry turned around to face Remus, dish and drying towel in hand. "I have been solving my own problems and working through my own issues all by my little self my entire life. What makes you so different from anyone else who's ever offered to listen? Why should I tell you, of all people, about the things that go through my head?" 

**"Why would I want to talk to you, of all people, about why I've been 'a little down' lately, Sirius?"**

The cozy, warm kitchen suddenly felt incredibly stifling. "Do you think everyone else lives like that? Can you honestly tell me that Ron or Hermione or any number of your other classmates don't pour their hearts out when they're hurting? Can you honestly tell me that you think it's normal to live so inside yourself like this?"

The words burned at him even as he spoke them. He knew better than most what Harry was trying to argue. How many times in the past had he used that exact same argument on Sirius? But his situation was different from Harry's…wasn't it? 

"But I'm not _normal_, am I." Harry's angry outburst cut through his thoughts. "And even then…you don't want to hear what I have to say. You just want poor little Potter to unload some of his heartbreaking burden and share his pain." The sarcasm was more than evident in his voice. "I don't need your pity, okay? I can be the pathetically tragic Boy Who Lived without your help." 

**"Your life not exciting enough these days? You want to 'help' me with my problems? Thanks, but no thanks. I've already seen how destructive your help can be…I can be the pathetic angst-ridden werewolf without your help, Sirius."  **

Remus took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair in a moment of frustration. No one had said this was going to be easy. He'd known that from the start. He just never thought that he was going to have to look so far inside himself. "And you think I'm asking you to talk about this because I want a minute by minute account of how shitty your life has been? You think I _want_ to know about all those times you were hurt that could have been prevented? You think I want to live with that kind of regret?" 

"Then leave it alone." Harry's back had turned to him once more, and Remus knew instantly that those had been the wrong words to say. "It's not that I don't want to trust you, Remus. I do. You've been nothing but patient and polite and kind to me. But I don't know you. I don't really think anyone does, to tell the truth."

The…the little _brat_. Not that it wasn't true. It was. It was probably the truest thing anyone had ever said of him in his entire life. That didn't mean he appreciated hearing it from a teenager. It didn't mean he appreciated hearing it from someone who hadn't spent thirty-eight years repulsed for who they were. 

"What would you like me to do then, offer you my own heartbreaking confession in return? Shall I go on and on about what it's like to be a werewolf? I imagine that I could tell you every pathetic aspect of my life, would that give you a better impression of who I am, would you feel comfortable talking then?"

"Hey, I'm perfectly content to keep to myself. You're the one who wanted the soul sharing."

"Fine." He bit out roughly. "You're right, I wanted us to do a little soul sharing. How's this for starters: I know that you got those scars from a belt buckle. I know it because I've got a matching set on my own back. I know why you think they're ugly. Trust me, I've got enough scars to feel shame enough for the both of us. But those scars are different. They're not like that one on your forehead are they? They aren't a testament to strength and endurance or love. They're proof that you weren't fast enough, that you weren't strong enough. They're proof that the people who were supposed to protect you pretty much did just the opposite. They're proof that the people who were supposed to love you thought you were the most worthless person in existence."

"Shut up." The words were whispered, and Harry's hands had stilled completely in the soapy water, and his stance was rigid with tension. 

"How many times, Harry?" 

"Sixteen. One for each year I was alive." Clipped, controlled. 

"Why didn't you ever tell anyone?" He asked in a more subdued voice, the fight draining out of him as Harry finally acknowledged the truth of what he'd seen on the teen's back a week ago. 

"Who was I going to tell? Dumbledore? The Weasleys? You? Sirius?" Harry gave a humorless laugh. "I was enrolled in St. Brutus's Center for Incurably Criminal Boys before I got my Hogwarts letter. Does that sound like a happy, well-adjusted place to you? Or does it sound like a detention center interested in corporal punishment? Dursley's sister, Marge, was convinced when she saw me the summer before fourth year that the poor people of that venerable institution weren't thrashing me hard enough. I think she even suggested something about caning. What part of anything in my time with them sounded healthy or agreeable?"

"If you'd _told_ someone, we would have done something." He managed somewhat hoarsely. 

"Would you have? Dumbledore placed me with them. He made me go back to them after my first year despite the report Hagrid gave him about the Dursleys. I would be there right now if I weren't going insane on you all. Sirius couldn't have done anything. He's still on the run. The Weasleys mean well, but they already have seven children. Or had, seeing as how my just being alive got the youngest murdered."

"You can't know what they would have done, Harry." He retorted reasonably, cringing inwardly even as he said the next words. "You never gave them a chance to help you." 

"A chance? I should have given them a _chance_?!" Harry's voice hit a heated hysterical pitch as the teen whipped around, dish in hand, to stare angrily at Remus. "Some things should just be apparent. I shouldn't have to point them out." 

The dish fell to the floor and shattered just seconds before Harry turned on his heels and stalked out the back door. 

Holding his hands in his head, Remus felt every part of his world reeling around him. He'd never been on this side of the argument before. He'd never had to defend this point of view, he'd never been able to even see it up until a couple of days ago. 

What was more, he hadn't wanted to admit to how similar things were between him and Harry. As much as he'd pressed for this talk, he'd dreaded it at the same time. 

They were much too alike. 

And while Remus understood what Harry was going through perfectly. While he could empathize with the resentment and the anger and the self-imposed isolation…It wasn't something he'd been prepared to combat. He didn't even know how to fight against it himself.  And maybe…

Maybe Sirius had a point after all…


	6. Of Pride and Identity

The bark of the willow tree Sirius was leaning against wasn't as rough against his bareback as he'd expected it to be. There was a small breeze that wafted through occasionally, stirring the limp branches around him and allowing him peaks at the sun high overhead. 

He had one leg casually draw up to his body, arm slung around his knee as his toes played in the grass at the edge of the bank. The other foot hung out limply in water, which was colder than he'd expected and that soaked through the muddy ends of the ragged jeans he was wearing as it rushed by. 

This little spot, all the thousands of little details that comprised the scenery here…it was the essence of tranquility. Of peace. 

And he allowed himself a small ragged sigh as he took everything into his senses. He only sought out places such as this when the chaos in his own head was too much to handle. He only came to places like this when he was certain that his brain was going to implode from all the emotions and thoughts and ideas that descended on him. 

Sometimes the peace was enough to provide him balance. Sometimes it was enough to help him start to think the right ways again. 

And then sometimes he'd been too far gone to even care. After all, the most tranquil spot on the lake at Hogwarts had seen the blood run down his forearms and drip into the peacefulness of the lapping water's edge. 

He wasn't at that same place today though, and for that he was thankful. No, this need for tranquility was more of an echo and not a full-blown episode. He knew how to be happy; he knew that he _could_ be happy these days. But depression wasn't something you could simply turn on and off. 

It was a part of who he was. It was a sort of self-destructive, seductive darkness that would always hover at the edges of his soul. Drugs, spells, potions, talking…none of those things could ever banish it completely. It was like trying to cure yourself of a chamber of your heart. 

For him, survival hadn't been about curing himself of his suicidal tendencies; it had been about accepting that he had them and knowing how to deal with that. It had been about recognizing the signs within himself, and about learning who he was and learning how to overcome the issues he kept pushing in his own path to success. His life now was about accepting everything that he was—the good, the bad, and everything in between—and being able to live with himself when he woke up in the morning. 

"Sirius?" The subdued, tired voice called him out of his own thoughts, and blinking, he turned to his side as Harry plopped down lifelessly beside him. 

"You okay?" He asked quietly as he watched the teen shuck off his shoes, followed closely by socks and then an overly large shirt. 

"Define okay." He recognized the dejected note to the words just fine, although he'd never colored his own phrases with quite so much anger when he'd reached the bottom rungs. 

"Having a hard time of it, huh." He reached over and grabbed the scruff of the kid's neck lightly and massaged gently as the incredibly tense muscles jumped at the touch. "I take it that Remus finally cornered you."

"Mm-hmm."

"He means well. And he's only pushing at you so hard because he really does care." Would that Remus would come after him with even a fraction of the intensity that he was using to try and pry the past out of Harry…Would that he could go after Remus with that kind of curiosity and get actual answers to his questions instead of the constant brush off… 

"I-I said a lot of things I shouldn't have." Harry blew out a strained sigh before dropping both feet into the stream. "I didn't mean to, but he kept pushing. He just wouldn't leave it alone. And now…now I wish I hadn't said anything. I know he wants to help, but bringing up the past doesn't do anything but hurt everyone involved."

Well, be that as it may, Sirius also knew that sometimes it was necessary. Sometimes a person had to feel like shit before things could start to really look up again. Not that he planned on sharing that with the teen right now, let the kid figure that out later and on his own. He wouldn't appreciate hearing it from Sirius. "Don't worry about Remus. He's strong. And I'm sure he understood what was going through your head when you said whatever it was that you said. He's like that." 

Remus was a man unto himself. That much he'd managed to learn. Remus didn't seem to need people the way that Sirius needed them. And given the way things had gone in the last three weeks here at this place, Sirius wondered if Remus had ever needed—ever wanted—anyone. 

In Azkaban, he'd been faced with thirteen years of nothing but his own company to keep him warm at night. To keep him occupied and interested during the day. He'd never been a loner by nature, being forced into isolation had been a shock to his system. One that he was still recovering from. And he'd learned quickly why it was that he'd never been satisfied to be by himself, because he had needed other people for reassurance, for approval, for a lot of things. And isolation had only brought to light all the things that he'd kept hidden. Loneliness had chewed at his insides corroding his sense of self, his sense of worth…his reason for living. 

Even he wasn't enough of a narcissist to think that his presence alone was enough to justify his right to live. What was being alive if no one knew you existed? What was the point if no one person cared about you or even knew you at all? In thirteen years, he hadn't found much anything noteworthy or particularly special in the time spent by himself. In fact, most of the time, all he'd been able to dwell on was everything he'd ever done and ever been that had hurt those around him, that made the people he loved ashamed to even be associated with him. Why live then if everything you represented to others was pain and sorrow and anger?

Revenge had been his only reason for surviving those years. Blind rage at Peter had sustained him. And in the end, even that hadn't been enough. He'd had to face himself in all his imperfections and mistakes. 

But Remus wasn't like him at all. Even when they'd been together in school, Remus had always been perfectly content to entertain himself. Remus made better, more logical and rational decisions than he did. Remus didn't let his emotions get the best of him. Remus didn't make monumental, unforgivable errors in judgment. And Remus had survived much better than someone like Sirius ever would.  

Remus just seemed to be everything he wasn't. It wasn't so much of a stretch to believe that Remus was stronger, more self-sufficient and independent than he would ever be. 

"Maybe." Harry finally answered thoughtfully, breaking through Sirius' train of thought. "I don't know though. I think that even if you really hurt Remus, he wouldn't let it show."  

Silence settled between them as Harry picked up a stray pebble and chucked it into the water. Maybe Harry had a point, or maybe not. It was hard to tell seeing as how Remus chose to be enigmatic instead of ever coming straight out with what he was thinking. When they were younger, it had been half of Remus' appeal to him. There had just been something dangerously mysterious about his friend. And he would be lying if he said that it hadn't been part of what had prompted him to be friendlier to the quietest kid in their year. 

Time had changed a lot of things though. These days, he really wasn't interested in flirting with danger. Thirteen years in Azkaban had sufficiently proven to him that there was nothing sexy about putting your life or the life of your friends in death's path. Life's lessons had cured him of his thrill seeking, because there weren't any guarantees. Even when you were at your most cautious, you couldn't ensure someone else's safety, let alone your own. It was suicidal to throw yourself willingly into situations that invited danger, and it bordered on murderous to unwittingly throw your friends into the same position. 

And he'd spent way too much time in the past dwelling on those sorts of thoughts to let it ruin his afternoon here by the stream, he decided abruptly. Throwing a glance back over at Harry, he managed a small sigh. Even in the shade of the willow, Sirius could make out the faint lines of the scars on the small of Harry's back. Odd that something so small was throwing both the teen and Remus so out of sorts. But then again, between the two of them, Sirius suspected that all it took was a spark to set off the powder kegs they kept bottled inside. 

At least with Harry, he still had half a prayer. With Remus it just seemed that time had taken away every chance he had of getting through, and after their last conversation…Remus wanted nothing to do with him. It was probably about time that he respected that. 

"Why can't anything ever just be easy?" Sirius knew a rhetorical question when he heard one and he snorted in agreement as Harry flopped down on the grass and scrunched his bunched up shirt behind his head.  

"Probably for the same reason that nothing ever quite works out the way you plan." He muttered, rolling back down onto his side next to the kid. 

*****

Remus found them both sleeping down by the willow at the side of the creek, the half moon splashing a pale light onto their features as it made the moving water glitter lightly. It was an entirely peaceful picture, if a bit odd, considering. In his head, he'd figured that Harry would probably run off to brood somewhere. After all, it was what he would have done in the same situation. It was what he _had_ done, sitting in the kitchen by himself. 

But he supposed, as he looked at the two sleeping figures, Harry was a bit different from him. Maybe not quite so embittered. Not so isolated and intent on accepting help from no one. Obviously, Harry had no problems going to Sirius. And really, Remus couldn't fault the kid for it. 

He bent down slightly, ignoring the tiny twinge in his knee. It had almost healed completely, but it still gave a pang here and there. If it didn't dislocate itself once more on the full moon, then it ought to be fine in a few weeks. Reaching over, he gave Harry's shoulder a light shake. 

"Wha?!" The muscles jumped under Remus' touch as Harry immediately jerked awake.   

"It's just me." He reassured quickly. At the sound of his voice, Harry seemed to relax. "Look, about earlier-"

"I shouldn't have said what I said." Harry butted in earnestly. The apology and the guilt were more than apparent in Harry's features.

"I pushed at you about something you didn't want to talk about. I understand." Drawing an inward sigh, he watched Harry sit up, shoulders sagging. "I guess…I don't want you to end up like me. And I suppose when I saw those scars I could see things in you that I never liked about myself. And maybe I wasn't being very fair to you, because we aren't the same. We haven't gone through the same things." He admitted softly. 

"Well…" Harry's face screwed up as if the teen had just taken a sip of something entirely too bitter, "You were right about some things. Maybe not all of it, but you were right to say that I don't ask for help when I know I need it. And I know that it's not a good thing. I suppose all I have to do is look at the number of times I almost got Ron and Hermione killed in the time I've known them to see that. And it did get other…people killed." 

Remus noted the dance around the whole issue of what had happened to Ginny, but for now, decided that Ginny was a much bigger, more involved discussion that could happen some other time when they both weren't coming off of a previous argument. "You don't have to explain it to me, I understand it perfectly. You're the only person I've ever told about those scars. I'm not particularly good about asking for help either. It kind of comes with the territory when you've spent so much of your time taking care of yourself and keeping to yourself. God knows, I know that. I should have given you time to confess on your own."

"It would have been a long wait." Harry yawned and stretched, before straightening out his shirt and pulling it back on. "It wasn't something I was going to confess to willingly. I mean, can't you just see the headlines? 'Boy Who Lives was once Boy Who Was Beaten'. They'd sensationalize it. And I've already had enough of that kind of crap to last a couple lifetimes." The teen scoffed. 

Remus thought about that for a moment, taking a second to compare their situations. "You have to trust someone sometime, and you have to have faith every once in a while that they aren't going to betray you to the world." God, but that was a hard thing to admit to, even if he could see the truth behind it. 

Harry made a face, but at least seemed to consider the words. "I suppose so." 

"Yeah, well…" Remus rubbed at the back of his neck a bit nervously. "It's late, you oughta head in." He suggested, wanting the teen to be gone before Sirius woke up and lost his cool over what they'd been discussing and before Remus began a conversation that was probably going to bring up more than a few uncomfortable issues. 

"Sure." The teen agreed somewhat sleepily as they both climbed to their feet. "Are you coming?" 

"In a minute." He returned, his nerves jumping again. Harry shrugged a shoulder before trudging up to the house as Remus watched him go. He breathed an unsteady sigh of relief as the back door shut behind Harry's form, leaving him alone outside with just Sirius. 

"The 'Boy Who Was Beaten'?" Remus almost yelped, and did visibly jump at the rough voice and the light, unexpected touch on his arm. "Was that what those scars are about?" Sirius' voice cracked on the words, and Remus could hear the self-incrimination in the other's voice. 

"Yeah," he admitted softly as he turned to face Sirius. He'd never seen someone look quite as dejected as Sirius did at that moment with shoulders slouched in, a hand running roughly through shaggy black locks, while the guilt was written so plainly over his face. "I…Look, you heard him yourself. He wasn't ever going to tell anyone, no matter how patient or understanding they'd been." 

"And you didn't want to tell me what was going on because, like him, you never wanted to talk about what happened to you either." Sirius stated quietly, avoiding looking at Remus directly. He wrestled for a moment with himself and with old resentments and anger. Getting angry with Sirius for doing nothing but pointing out the truth wasn't going to get them anywhere. And he owed it to them both to at least be somewhat honest with what was going on.  

"It's not an easy thing to talk about." He managed to force himself to say. "They aren't exactly happy memories." A part of him wanted to say more, maybe even confess more. But some habits were hard to break, and given the circumstances and the past, it was even harder to get past his initial stubbornness and fear. Some memories were just easier to live with if he tried to forget that they'd ever happened. 

"That's what you meant last week by some things being apparent." Sirius tilted his head slightly, catching the moonlight at just the right angle so that Remus could see the sadness in those light blue eyes. "We should have seen…I should have seen that something was wrong. That a lot of things were wrong and that you needed our…my help, but didn't know how to ask for it. We were best friends and I was blind to what you were going through. I failed you both. You and Harry." Sirius' head bowed slightly as he drew a rather ragged breath. 

And maybe for the first time in the last three years Remus caught a glimpse of the real post-Azkaban Sirius instead of the young irresponsible one that existed only in his head. The Sirius before him, in some respects, was just as much a broken soul as Harry. He had an air of apologetic and overwhelming desolation, as well as a kind of quiet needy look about him that Remus should have recognized. 

And as he tentatively reached out a hand, Remus realized that he knew next to nothing about the Sirius in front of him. This wasn't the same boy he'd known and befriended decades before. This was a stranger with a familiar name, with the occasional recognizable mannerism or quirk. 

It startled him almost as it seemed to startle Sirius as Remus saw his hand brush a few silky strands of black hair out of Sirius' eyes. His fingers stilled at the edge of Sirius' neck as the pad of his thumb hesitantly brushed over the light stubble on Sirius' cheek. 

In a split second, he found himself pulling Sirius down to meet his lips before he could give himself the chance to talk his way out of the action. He could feel Sirius' shock before the lips seemed to melt against his and then open at his probing. Sirius' tongue slid over his slowly, and gently. He could feel Sirius' hesitant fingers sliding lightly over his sides before resting lightly at the waist of his jeans, almost as if afraid that Remus would push the hands away if he applied any pressure. 

And maybe he was right to be hesitant, Remus managed to think numbly as he felt his own hands rest shakily on Sirius' shoulders. Sirius' mouth slanted possessively over his own for a moment, and Remus could feel the subtle shift in control between them as Sirius took charge, urging Remus with light caresses. 

It had been so long since he'd done something like this, Remus acknowledged with a small, contented sigh into Sirius' mouth. To just be held lightly and hold lightly in return. To connect with someone on this sort of physical level. 

It wasn't until he felt Sirius' fingers tugging lightly at the belt loops of his jeans that Remus snapped back a bit more into reality. As Sirius tugged him forward, he couldn't keep himself from pushing back, and then pushing hard enough to detangle himself completely from Sirius' embrace. 

Questioning, hurt eyes sought out his, and his tongue seemed to freeze in his mouth. He didn't know this person. Not well, and the parts that he had once known were either outdated or uncharitable. He didn't want to keep making the same mistake over and over again. And if they continued this they would. 

He wasn't good with people on a personal level. He never had been. 

And with Sirius…things had never been what anyone might term 'ideal circumstances' between them since the shack incident. They couldn't just jump into this and come out unscathed in the end. Besides that, he wasn't ready. 

"Too fast." He managed before chocking back some of the other things he wanted to say. Poisonous things about charm and how Sirius had once wielded it better then the highest paid whores of the world. This wasn't that Sirius. They weren't the same person anymore, but he didn't know who to replace that image with. And that was a fearful thing; opening up to someone he didn't know. Someone who may or may not be trustworthy, or understanding or even sincere. "Too soon." He told the melancholy blue eyes. "Give me some time." 

And then he turned and walked back to the house, not looking back because he knew that doing so would only weaken his resolve. 


	7. Of Misunderstandings and Bad Choices

*****

7th Year, Winter 

"You're failing Potions on purpose, aren't you." 

"What makes you say that?" Sirius asked nonchalantly as he looked up from his scroll to meet Pete's slightly frustrated, worried glance as they stood in front of their cauldron. It had been silently agreed upon that James and he would switch partners for Potions seeing as how Remus had shut them all out and how Jamie seemed to be the only one of them capable of putting up with the deep freeze. 

"Probably the fact that you've got a big red sixteen out of a hundred written across the top of your scroll and you're smiling like you've just caught the snitch." Pete returned in a rare moment of sarcasm. "And I know you should have gotten better than that since you and Jamie spent all of last week tutoring me for mine and I managed an eighty-five." 

Sirius shrugged before stuffing the scroll in his bag. One lousy sixteen in Potions wasn't going to make or break him, and he honestly didn't see the big deal. Truth was he could flat out fail Potions if he wanted to and still get his diploma. His grades in the rest of his classes were within the top ten percent of their year. 

When the hell was he ever going to actually _use_ potions in his life, anyway? If he needed a medicinal potion, he could always just buy it at Diagon Alley, it wouldn't cost much more than buying the ingredients and making it himself would. And as for the rest of it? There were plenty of ways to get the results you wanted without having to spend sixteen bloody hours over a bubbling cauldron. To tell the truth, Potions seemed to be a rather huge, inefficient waste of time to him. It amazed him that the Slytherins could never see it that way…

Maybe he'd frame this particular low scoring scroll and send it to his father. The old man oughta get a kick out of it seeing as how he assumed that Potions was the backbone to everything magical. What a fucking joke. Given the right material, any Muggle could probably make potions. In a way, it was almost ironic that Potions was the ideal of the Slytherin house. 

"Sixteen, eighty-five. What difference does it make? It's just Potions. It's not like it's something that might actually be important." He scoffed as he pulled out the proper ingredients for today's potion and placed them in front of Pete. 

"Spoken like the true imbecile you are." Snape butted in sardonically, sending Sirius' blood pressure skyrocketing. Smug little bastard thought he fucking knew everything. As if he were God's gift to Slytherin. As if he were God's gift to the whole fucking school. Well fine, it wasn't like Sirius gave a tinker's damn. Snape could be the next Salazar for all he fucking cared. 

_"Why can't you be more like Snape's son? Young Severus actually _makes_ an honest effort at his studies." _

_"You're completely rootless! I'll wager that Severus already has a lucrative future plotted out. And you? _You_ don't even know what classes you're taking next year. Get with the program, Sirius! Quit being so damn lazy…"_

_"Any idiot with half a brain can perform Transfigurations. It takes _intelligence_ to master Potions. It takes precise control and logical assessment. Get your head out of the clouds and start _thinking_, or so help me God…!" _

"I don't even know why I bother, you'll never amount to anything at this rate."

If the old bastard thought Snape the end all of life itself, then maybe the two of them ought to switch places. For it had long since been apparent to him that his father—his very Slytherin father—was still reveling in the shame of having created an offspring that dared to be Gryffindor. 

"Fuck off, Snape. No one asked you." He muttered vindictively. He didn't want to put up with the bastard's shit today. Or any day. After all, it was that weasel that had cost him his friendship with Remus…

"If you put half the effort it took to play your _stupid_ little pranks into actually studying for this class, then maybe you wouldn't always look like such a complete moron when Bauer calls on you." Snape sneered back. "Not everything is like Transfiguration you know. For some classes you actually have to possess half a brain." 

"Ah, Snape, becoming part of the next generation of groveling sycophants?" He returned snidely. Why was it always assumed that Transfiguration took no effort, no intelligence? If it were so fucking easy, wouldn't it have followed that all those oh so studious Ravenclaws, or all those ambitious Slytherins would have aced it without a problem? 

Transfiguration wasn't just pallor tricks, despite what close-minded pricks like his father thought. It took an intimate knowledge of the items you were trying to transfigure. It took an inherent understanding of magic, and how magic worked, as well as an intimate understanding of one's own magic and the ranges of one's own abilities. You couldn't just mutter a couple of words and have that be it. 

And he never would have become an animagi if he hadn't been able to learn that.   

"Do us both a favor and don't confuse me with you." Snape shared a look of exasperation with his Potions partner.

Oh right. As if Snape thought of everything that he said all on his lonesome. Sometimes, Sirius was convinced that all the Slytherins in Britain shared the same brain. After all, it was easier to get things done in an 'efficient, ambitious' manner if no one ever disagreed with you. God only knew that it seemed to be Voldemort's political slogan. 

"I know, God forbid any of you Slytherins ever think for yourselves." He returned despite Pete's growing unease. He knew Pete hated it when he argued with Snape, particularly when he argued in Potions. But there was just something about the bastard that rubbed Sirius the wrong way. 

It was like looking at a younger, miniature version of his father. He could just see Snape spouting the same political crap that his father loved to elaborate on. The call for drastic change, an end to the old, inefficient Ministry system. Stricter distinctions between Muggle and Wizarding worlds in order to cut down the need for wasting tax payer's money on departments like Muggle Relations or even disbanding all the departments involved in anything Muggle altogether. 

Heaven forbid they actually try and work within what they had or understand why things were the way they were. 

Heaven forbid his father actually try to understand the talents and gifts he had. Hell, heaven forbid the man actually try to understand _him_ and accept him for what he was.  No, he had to try and warp everything out of recognition, he had to try and 'shape and mold' Sirius to be the 'right' way, the 'right' type of person. And in his oh so Machiavellian way, he didn't care what or who it cost as long as he got the result he wanted. All his father, all any of the Slytherins, wanted was a world full of little automatons that would do their will, learn the things they thought important, and have the same ambitions, the same fucking world view…

He wasn't like that. And he sure as hell wasn't going to become that way for anyone. Especially not his father. He couldn't—what's more he wouldn't—be Snape. Maybe he didn't know what he was doing with his life, maybe he didn't know anything about where he was going or who he was…but he knew who he wasn't, and he knew what he didn't want. 

"Sirius, _shut up_ before we get in trouble again!" He could see the worry shining in Pete's eyes as Snape muttered some retort under his breath. Scowling slightly at Pete, he forced himself to shrug it off and start on preparing their potion. God, he hated it when Snape got the last word. But it was either let Snape have it, or listen to Pete lecture him for the rest of the period about getting along with people. He was worse than Jamie at that. 

Sometimes, Sirius was convinced that Pete would argue for peace at any cost. Pete was just one of those people who didn't like creating waves. He only got involved in pranks as long as it was fairly certain he wouldn't be implicated in the punishments for it or that they wouldn't be traced back to the Marauders. 

And as for him? Hell, the more trouble, the better. He wasn't some mousy, socially inept, studious kid; and he wasn't going to pretend to be for anyone. 

Life was too short to worry about living up to some egotistical bastard's expectations. If it was his father's way or the highway…

…He'd take the highway every fucking time. 

*****

"What are you up to?" 

"Potions homework."

"Does Snape usually assign a lot?" 

"Yes. He gets perverse pleasure out of making us poor peons miserable during our few hours of freedom."

"Nice to know it hasn't stolen your sense of humor."

"Well, you have to have one just to sit through the class. It's a waste of time. Detention is more exciting than watching a caldron come to boil."

"My world for an few hours of worthless boredom."

"Thank you, Lord Byron. Make yourself useful and explain to me what on earth bezoar eyeballs do."  

*laughs* "Do it yourself, lazy butt. I did my time already."

"But it's pointless! Potions is pointless. The only reason Snape teaches it is because it's illegal to use torture devices on children."

"After having spent thirteen years in Azkaban because no one had been available to make and administer Veritaserum during my farce of a trial, I'd have to disagree." 

"Sirius…"

*lopsided grin* "Back to the books, brat." 

*****

"What?" Sirius finally demanded in strained nervousness as Remus' stares and stolen glances finally started to get under his skin. 

"Nothing." Remus returned quickly before plunging hands back into the soap suds in the sink. It wasn't just 'nothing', Sirius couldn't help but think with an annoyed shrug before rolling up his sleeves again and grabbing a dish to dry. Unless that whole incident outside last night under the willow had been 'nothing'. 

Which was a distinct possibility. Remus had already made it clear that something as simple as friendship might be asking for too much between them, romantic intentions had to be completely out of the picture. He was just kidding himself to think that Remus might even return a tiny bit of the attraction that he felt. The whole thing had to have been a fluke. A hallucination of his imagination, or maybe the strain of living with Sirius and Harry in combination had finally gotten to Remus…

"You're doing it again." He murmured quietly as he felt Remus' eyes trained on him once more. He figured Remus meant well, or at the very least had something very pressing on his mind as he stared. And in reality he knew that Remus couldn't possibly know how much his actions were messing with Sirius' head. But still…

The only times people quietly, solemnly stared at him was when they thought he'd done something wrong. Something evil. Something untrustworthy and horrific. God, the only time people looked at him like that was when he fucked up. 

Had he fucked up again? How? When? Was he supposed to guess? 

Oh fuck. 

Was it the kiss? He knew he shouldn't have tried to kiss back, all it had done was push Remus away once again. Was it helping Harry with his summer homework? It wasn't like he'd done it for the kid. Laughed at him while he did it, maybe. But he hadn't done it _for_ him. Had he said something at dinner that started this off? 

Or was this just old history that he couldn't undo that was coming back to bite him in the ass? Yet again. 

Was it his impulsiveness? His lack of direction? The fact that he was an escaped convict on the run from the law? Was it the way he'd once played fast and loose with the rules to get a rise out of people? Or maybe it was just the fact that he'd been given everything and instead of making something out of himself, out of the opportunities given him, all he'd managed to do was screw up spectacularly. 

Maybe it was the fact that his life was forever one lie piled on top of another and that inevitably the things he thought he stood for—his loyalty, his faith, his convictions—ended up being the things that got the people he loved murdered…

"Sirius? Earth to Sirius…"

Blinking, he looked up to see Remus handing him a dripping wet plate with a perplexed look on his face. Blushing slightly, Sirius took the plate. "Just spit it out." He managed softly. 

"What?" 

"Whatever it is that you want to say. Just _say_ it." He snapped irritably. Because the wait was killing him. If Remus wanted him to admit to wrong doings, Sirius could…until they were both convinced it would be best to just return him to hell. 

"I don't have anything to say."

Like hell. Not this fucking game. "Then why are you staring at me?"  

"I just…look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you nervous." There was a defensive edge to Remus' words and they cracked something inside him. What was he doing? So Remus was fucking staring at him, big goddamn deal. If he walked out in public nowadays, they'd do a hell of a lot more than stare. He'd have a lot more to contend with than Remus' suppressed anger seeing as how he'd be dodging hexes, rocks, Unforgivables…

He shuddered at the memory of what the days surrounding and encompassing his trial had been like. In actuality, he was surprised that he'd actually made it to Azkaban in one piece given the number of attempts on his life by outraged, grieving bystanders. 

But at least the bystanders had been emotionally honest with him. There wasn't much of a question as to what they felt or why they felt it, they made their reasons abundantly clear. 

And as for someone like Remus? When had he ever been emotionally honest with him? Had he ever?

"You didn't mean to make me nervous? What is it you want then? What is it that I've done this time to piss you off?" He ground out, knowing even as he did so that he was being neurotic. 

"Well, quite frankly, nothing until a few seconds ago." He could hear the bite to the words. 

"Oh please, like you haven't been angry with me since I stepped foot onto this property? _Don't lie to me_." Too many people in the past already had. Peter, his father, Remus…just to name a few. And he was done with it. He didn't care if the truth was ugly, if it made him face things about himself that he didn't like, or if it made him relive through things in his past and made him feel shame and regret for things he couldn't take back or change. Any of it, all of it, was better than being left in the dark or naively letting someone else unwittingly control his life. 

"I'm not lying to you." Remus scowled back. "I'm just trying to figure you out." 

"Figure me out? What's to figure out? I thought you were already an expert on who I was." He spat out shoving the plate into the drying rack on the counter. 

"I'm _trying_ to figure out if you're still the same irresponsible, immature prick that you were when we were kids." Remus snarled back, slamming another dirty dish into the sink in the process. 

"Well here's a fucking newsflash: I'm worse. Unlike a good wine, I don't get better with age. You already knew that. Where's the question, then? If you're fucking angry with me, then just _tell_ me. Don't mess around with mind games. We can't all be like you, we can't all wall ourselves off from humanity and survive." He couldn't seem to help the sneer that worked it's way into his expression.

"Do you always have to be so melodramatic?" The exasperation was clear in Remus' voice. 

Well, to anyone outside his head, he imagined that this sounded like an adult version of an overblown temper tantrum. Maybe that wasn't too far from the truth. Except when you reached adulthood, and lost it to this extent…he was on the verge of breaking down. 

It was one thing when Remus was behaving in the usual predictable manner. Even if it had hurt like hell to be rebuffed so many different times for so many different reasons. But this? Kissing him and then pretending that nothing had changed at all? That wasn't reassuring. That wasn't adding any stability to an already unstable situation. 

He was sick of thinking himself in circles. He was sick of realizing that nothing he did was ever going to be understood by the people he did it for. And he was sick of letting himself be manipulated. Maybe Remus had the right of it with isolation. For now anyway. Tossing his dishrag on the counter in disgust, he gave Remus one last hard stare. 

"Nothing I do is ever going to be good enough for anyone, is it?" _Nothing I do is ever going to be good enough for you._ The blank questioning look on Remus' face was his only answer. "I'm going out." He managed before calmly walking out the back door and resisting the urge to bolt. 

He didn't allow himself the weakness of dissolving into a fit of shakes until he was safely up in the hayloft of the pole barn where prying eyes would never see. 


	8. Of Family Matters

*****

_2nd year Post-Azkaban_

Snape, 

You can be such a fuckhead, you know that? Everything you do, everything you say, everything that is _you_ gets under my skin until I want to either rip it off me or strangle you to death. As you can see from our pasts, I usually attempt the latter. 

And since you've sent back the last three _polite_ attempts I've made at apologizing, I decided to forgo niceties. I've accepted that asking you for forgiveness is asking for something that you're not capable of giving me at the moment. Maybe ever. I really can't say that I blame you. What I did to you back then was unacceptable. 

But I swear to god, if you send this letter back, I will fucking tattoo the words on your ass personally, you slimy git. 

I'm sorry. I know you don't want to hear that, but I'm past the point of caring what you might or might not want to hear. I'm sorry for what happened, I'm sorry that I pinned the blame of my actions on you, and I'm sorry that I tormented you all those years. Although, you have to admit that you often gave as good as you got. And yes, I know that that doesn't excuse the things I did. 

I fucked up. I tend to do that a lot, I've discovered. 

Go on. Gloat. I know you want to. 

Hell, you can pin this up on the wall and declare it proof of your enemy's idiocy for all I care. You've always been bloody brilliant at making me feel stupid, so I suppose it wouldn't hurt for you to finally feel vindicated in that. So kudos to you on a job well done. 

Knowing you though, you'll just torch this after reading the first sentence. Fine. I guess that gives me a lot of leeway in what I can say then, seeing as how you probably won't bother to read it anyway. And just for the record, for someone who's supposed to be so calm, logical and coherent you can be just as hotheaded and irrational as me. 

That, at least, is one thing about you that hasn't changed. 

Do you ever wake up in the morning and just wonder where all the time went? 

I lay awake some nights, unable to sleep, and I'll just let my mind go and think back to those last couple of years of school, and what everyone was like. What I was like. It seems like it all happened to someone else. That this Sirius person couldn't possibly be me. Was I really that arrogant, that reckless and self righteous? I must have been, because I'm still carrying the weight of all those mistakes I made. 

Bet you can relate to that too. Becoming a Death Eater definitely wasn't one of your better moments… 

I've had fantasies about going back in time, fixing all the things I did so horribly wrong. I've had daydreams about sitting that younger version of myself down and shaking some sense into him, and making him see things more clearly. And some nights it tears me raw to know that I can't change any of it, that no matter how much I might want to replace the past with something new, I can't. 

I imagine that to be in your place, to be a teacher to all those kids that are so much like we once were, has got to be more frustrating than anything. I imagine that they listen as much to you as we listened to our own professors as they tried to keep us on the right paths. Honestly, I don't know how you do it. It seems so futile. Everything just seems so hopeless. Generation after generation doomed to make the same mistakes as the first, only on a grander scale. 

I know that for years, I thought that it was you I hated. And whether you want to admit it or not, you weren't exactly pleasant to be around in your own respect. You could be just as nasty and spiteful as I was. Although I admit that in a lot of instances, I probably deserved it. Thirteen years with nothing but my own thoughts to occupy me in Azkaban though…it was never really _you_ I hated. Not that I would have particularly liked you had circumstances been different, but the animosity I held for you was animosity held for a phantom I thought you embodied. 

You remember the Christmas when we were twelve and our parents made us sit together in the kitchen during that dinner party of theirs? God, you bled like a stuck pig all over my mash potatoes. Sometimes, I wonder what it was that you thought when you tried to stop your busted nose from bleeding as you glared at me. I punched you totally unprovoked. 

I resented the hell out of you. It seemed that every flaw I had in me was magnified when compared to you. And I hated being compared to you. Fucking hated that nothing I ever did was good enough. It was always 'why can't you be more like Severus?'. I wasn't in Slytherin like you were. I wasn't ambitious like you. I wasn't as down to Earth or as logical as you. I wasn't as fucking smart as you…

Well, I didn't fucking want to be you, okay? I didn't want to be anything like you. 

Not that I could have been, even if I had wanted to. I didn't get you at all. How could anyone be that sure of themselves and their intelligence? God, I wanted to fucking rip your throat out every time you made me look stupid. I wanted so badly to convince myself that it didn't matter if I was the dumbest student Hogwarts had ever seen. I wanted to believe that my 'bravery', my convictions, and my enthusiasm were enough to make up for my shortcomings. 

Yeah, I know how much of a fucking crock that is now. What can I say? I was young and stupid and unwilling to see anything from anyone else's perspective but my own. 

Maybe you can relate to that too. Maybe not. 

Well, for better or for worse, I'm sorry for the person I once was and what he did to you. I'm sorry for the person I've become and the things I've put you through now. I wish I could take it all back, but if wishes were knuts, we'd all be filthy rich. 

As for now, do what you'd like with this. Burn it, share it with all your cronies and have another good laugh at my expense…Hell, you can fucking get it published in the paper if you damn well feel like it. Just don't send it back, or I'll be cramming it up that tight fisted ass of yours, okay? 

Sirius

*****

"Here, Remus." 

Bleary eyed, Remus looked up to see the steaming cup Harry had apparently placed in front of him. "What is this?" 

"This is what we sober people call coffee. Drink up." 

The best Remus could manage was a weak glare as he took the cup and drained it in one long sip. His head was pounding, and the smug smirk on Harry's lips was doing nothing to help alleviate the poor mood he'd chosen to wallow in. He hadn't necessarily started off with the intention of getting slightly smashed. He'd just wanted to drink a little bit to loosen up and hopefully relax. 

To say that having Sirius freak out on him like that was a shock to his system would be something of a huge understatement. 

He was still trying to figure out exactly what it was that had happened. One moment, they'd been peacefully washing the dishes, the next they'd been at each other's throats. 

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" He finally managed to ask as Harry's face finally came into focus and the ache in his head lessened a few increments. The clock on the wall read just a little after two in the morning. 

Didn't anyone ever sleep normally anymore? Irritated, he raised an eyebrow and waited for the teen's response. It was bad enough that Sirius slept in the barn, or that he often found himself up at three in the morning and unable to fall back to sleep, he didn't need an insomniac teenager to add to the mix…

"I'm sixteen, not six. Don't you think I'm a little old for bedtimes? Besides that, I wanted to talk to you." Harry pushed another cup of coffee in front of him to replace the one he'd just drained. "And I'd really like to know how someone gets wasted on one bottle of beer." The teen twirled the empty incriminating bottle in his hands, the smirk still firmly on his face. 

"Werewolf metabolism." He growled, snatching the bottle back out of the teen's hands. 

"Definitely not a happy drunk, are you." The light hearted grin in Harry's voice grated on Remus' last nerve. Damned if the kid wasn't enjoying himself at Remus' expense. 

"Never you mind if I'm a happy drunk or not." He muttered in a twinge of aggravation. 

Teenagers. They thought they had everything figured out, he snorted softly to himself as he peeled slowly the label off the bottle. He'd been like that once. Heaven only knew that both Snape and Sirius had made an art out of thinking their way the Only Right Way. Even in Harry, he could see that certain type of headstrong willfulness. And he supposed it was part of growing up, just as part of growing up was realizing that there was more to any one situation than the things that only you could perceive. 

"Remus? What's really going on between you and Sirius?" Snapping his eyes back up to the teen's at those words, Remus tried to get his lethargic brain to spit out something intelligent. Harry's face, while it still held the faint amusement at finding his old professor drunk, was serious and more than a little concerned. 

"It's not anything, really…" He tried to start off, but cut off short as Harry shook his head in denial before shooting Remus a hurt glare. 

"I'm not stupid, you know. I've got ears, I've got eyes. What, do you two think I walk around this place deaf, dumb, and blind? I get that to you both, I'm still just a kid. I don't really agree with you, but I can accept that that's the way you're going to try and treat me. But that doesn't mean that it's okay to lie to me, or to try and pull the wool over my eyes, all right? Maybe I'm not really a part of either of your families, so maybe it's not really any of my business anyway what you two do in your free time, but still…I care about you both and I want to know exactly what the hell is going on. Because if it gets any more tense around here than it already is, windows are going to start exploding from the pressure." 

Fuck. Remus groaned slightly and slumped his head down onto his forearms to avoid Harry's accusing gaze. This was what he'd been hoping to avoid all along. It just figured that Harry would come to him and force the information out of him instead of out of Sirius. "Well, you know Sirius and I have…issues that go all the way back to our school days." He finally started, lifting his head up to meet Harry's accusing stare. 

"Yes, but you both neglected to mention that you were attracted to each other." Harry deadpanned. "I saw you kissing from the porch last night." 

"Does it bother you that we were kissing each other?" Remus asked quietly after a moment, noting with a slight twinge of amusement that Harry seemed startled by the fact that he hadn't flat out denied what had happened. 

"Er…well, you're both adults." The teen offered somewhat lamely. "And I suppose it really isn't any of my business if you decide to…well…I just wish you'd told me is all." 

"So you do mind." Remus watched the teen's face flush slightly in embarrassed consternation. 

"No! No, I don't care if you like guys or if he likes guys. Hell, I don't care if you're attracted to both sexes, it's just--"

"You don't want us to be attracted to each other? Is that it?" Remus frowned trying to figure out why those questions only seemed to agitate Harry further. He would have understood if Harry was a little bit upset at learning like that about his godfather's sexuality. It probably was something of a shock to see his old professor kissing said godfather, but Harry's panicked face as he worried a loose string on the cuff of his sleeve seemed a bit excessive. Excessive for Harry at least. 

"Look, I know it's not supposed to be any of my business--" 

"Harry…"

"But I want it to be!" The teen turned anguished eyes on Remus. "I don't want to be just some problem the two of you have to fix this summer, all right? I don't want to be just some mission Dumbledore assigned to you both." 

"Harry, we don't see you as just a problem that has to be solved. I know that if Sirius could have, he would have taken you in years ago."

"What about you? Look, when you told me I could start calling you Remus instead of Professor, things changed. I'm not your student anymore, and you aren't my teacher. Sirius…Sirius is the closest thing I have to family." Harry cautiously regarded Remus after admitting that, as if expecting the werewolf to deny him that particular concession about Sirius. 

And then finally the conversation started to fall neatly into place for Remus. "You're jealous." 

"No!" The teen denied heatedly with a blush. "Er…well, maybe. But only a little. I'm more worried than anything else." Harry's quiet voice settled between them. 

"Worried?" 

"Well yeah." Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "Look, it's not that I don't want you both to be happy. But, if you guys get together…I know I'm too old to still want to be part of a family. I know it's lame. And I know it's stupid and that it doesn't make any sense. But if the two of you get together, then I'm left out in the cold, again. And I'm really fucking sick of being there." 

"Harry, we only kissed. Past that…well, I'm sure you heard parts of what happened earlier. We aren't exactly getting along by any stretch of the imagination." 

"So what happens if it doesn't work?" 

"What happens?" Remus echoed uncertainly, as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Well, he really hadn't thought that far ahead yet. In truth, he hadn't even been willing to admit that there was a...well, whatever it was, between them. 

"What happens, if at the end of the summer you both decide that you can't stand to even be in the same room together?" Harry glared at him, almost as if the teen was certain that Remus was going to give him and answer he didn't want to hear. Remus couldn't guarantee either that that might not just be the case. He couldn't offer Harry reassurances that he and Sirius would somehow manage to work out their differences for Harry's sake, if it came down to that. If the teen was looking for Remus to tell him that no matter what, they'd be willing to be in the same room for him, that might be expecting too much. 

"I guess then we'll just go our separate ways." He offered, feeling that it was woefully short of what he should be saying in this situation. 

"So you'll just leave and never talk to us again?" 

"Us?" Remus managed to insert questioningly before Harry plowed right through his interruption. 

"You'll just walk away and not look back. You'll send all my letters back unopened, and you'll just push this entire chapter of your life back into that corner of your mind that's labeled 'mistakes I never should have made, and people I should have never gotten close to'?" 

"Harry, that's not going to happen." He protested. 

"That's what you say now. But when things go sour…" Harry shook his head, resigned. As if it was already a forgone conclusion. 

Which worried Remus more than he really wanted to admit. "I'm not the Weasleys." He tried to remind the teen gently as parts of Harry's rant started to make sense. And really, he couldn't blame the kid. Harry had already had so many people do exactly that to him in his life, that it probably _did_ seem inevitable to him that Remus would react the same way, given that same set of circumstances. 

"Maybe. Maybe not. You said you didn't see me as just a problem that had to be solved. But what am I to you then? Just an old student, to be humored on occasion? An old school chum's kid that needs a helping hand every once in a while? Am I just a fucking obligation? Because if that's all I am then don't bother getting any closer, okay. It's just cruel."

"I…Harry…" Damn. The words caught up in his throat as he tried to push past his own insecurities to address Harry's. Maybe he didn't know exactly what Harry was going through, but he knew parts of it. Thoughts like those came from having your trust in someone betrayed one too many times. They came from having too many people that were supposed to have your best interests at heart treat you as if you were less of a person, to treat you as the thing they labeled you by instead of taking the time to get to know the person who lay underneath. 

"No, okay? I'm sick of feeling like I'm a pawn in someone else's plans." Harry burst out angrily. "I can take that kind of shit from Dumbledore or from my professors, or even from the rest of the wizarding public. But to me, you're different, and I'm not going to accept that same kind of 'let me help guide you through life' crap unless you're seeing me for _me_." 

"Look, you have to understand that I haven't had anyone I might even remotely think of as 'family' in a long time." Remus managed to start quietly. "The family I was born into was not one I ever wanted to be a part of, and by the time I was old enough to go out on my own, I was disillusioned with the whole idea of having people that would be as close to me as that--" 

"Maybe we should both just leave each other alone then." The life seemed to drain right out of Harry's face as he uttered the words. 

"Let me finish, all right?" The look of utter dejection on the teen's features made him growl out the words harsher than he'd intended and Harry flinched slightly. "I never meant for you to get as close as you have. I never meant to open up to you as much as I have, and I never really expected you to open up as much to me in return. It just seemed unlikely, you know? I wasn't your godfather, I was just an old teacher of yours. But things change, perspectives change. And you probably are the closest thing I have to family at the moment, okay? I'm not just going to quit talking to you, or return your letters unopened or ignore you if things between Sirius and I go badly. Give me some credit, all right? I'm not _that_ flaky."

"Oh." The stunned expression on Harry's face was almost priceless. 

"Yes, 'oh'." Remus mimicked teasingly as Harry blushed once more. "Er…is there any coffee left?" He tried to change the conversation. A man could only take so much in one night. 

"Yeah, I think there's still some left in the bottom of the pot." And the teen scrambled to refill Remus' cup. 

*****

"Who's owl?" 

"Snape's. Although, it's too early for him to be sending me the Wolfsbane potion, I wonder what he wants." 

"Well, call me crazy, but in my world, we usually read the notes attached to their legs in order to figure out what the sender wants." 

"Smart ass." 

"It's my job…So what's it say?"

"Er…'Lupin, for the love of god already, just forgive the man. Snape.' What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You're asking me? Like I know." 

"Have I mentioned lately how helpful you aren't?" 

"Maybe Sirius will know." 

"Right. And maybe Voldemort will randomly disintegrate in a puff of smoke." 

"Jerk. Process of elimination. If you and I don't know what it means, the only person left to ask is him. What could it hurt? Besides, maybe you two should try to sit down and attempt a calm, rational conversation." 

"Maybe…"

"Just go." 

"Okay, I'm going. But you need to get off to bed and get some sleep." 

"Yes, yes. Fine. I will. Sheesh." 

*****


	9. Of Complicated Conversationsminor edit

*****

"Harry? Harry, what are you still doing up?" 

"Wow. You really look like shit, Sirius. What happened?" 

"Never mind that. Shouldn't you be in bed?" 

"I was going, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay first. You seemed pretty…er…not all right earlier." 

"I'm fine. You're not going to be though if Remus finds out that you're still up." 

*grins* "He's still sitting in the kitchen trying to get his nerve up." 

"What?" 

"Nothing. Never mind. I just…you know I want you to be happy, right?"

*blink* "Sure. I want you to be happy, too. Are you feeling okay?" 

"Hmm…maybe just a little off balance. It's no big deal. I guess…I just get sick of things changing all the time sometimes." 

"Yeah, I know how that goes. You can't really escape it though." 

"I know…Say, do you write to Snape?" 

*blink* "Um, occasionally yeah. I hope you don't mind, I sent off Hedwig earlier with a note to him. She's back now though sleeping over there in the rafters." 

"Oh…oh. That's really weird." 

"You're telling me." 

"Well…"

"Go to bed, Harry, I'll be fine." 

"If you say so…"

*****

"Sirius, you look…" Remus couldn't bring himself to quite say the word broken as he stumbled up the last few rungs of the ladder leading to the hayloft. Sirius was sitting on a couple bales of hay, his silhouette outlined by the lumos charm he apparently had going as he calmly seemed to be shining some of the tack that had been left behind by the previous muggle owners. 

"Like shit? Yeah, Harry already mentioned that." Sirius' voice was neutral, and he didn't look up at Remus as he kept running a cloth over what appeared to be a rather worn looking saddle. 

Wait. Harry? "When was Harry up here?" In retrospect, the words probably came out a bit more exasperated than he meant them to. As it was, Sirius gave a small chuckle at them. 

"Just a few minutes ago. Wanted to know if I wrote to Snape." 

"Do you?" He asked, sitting down on the bale of hay opposite Sirius and willing the other man to at least spare him a glance. Sirius, however, it seemed had no intention of doing so, not anytime soon at least. 

"Occasionally. It's not like we're friends or anything. Or that we really talk to each other. It's just random, disconnected letters back and forth." Sirius gave another shrug before going back to rubbing the cloth in his hands over the dulled surface of the saddle. The motions of it all looked somewhat soothing and rather rhythmic to Remus' eyes, and seemed to give Sirius the perfect excuse to keep his eyes focused on anything but Remus. 

He was staring again, and he knew it. And for whatever reason, his gaze seemed to really unnerve Sirius. It was just that sometimes the old Sirius would peak through, making him think nothing had changed at all. And then in a blink, Sirius would do something or say something that would tear down all those old suppositions about his character and reduce them to ashes. It was disconcerting. 

"Did you write to him about me?" Remus asked finally, deciding to keep his eyes trained on Sirius' hands and hoping that his own feelings hadn't colored his words too much. 

"Maybe a little, why? What's with the sudden interest with who I write to anyway?" Sirius shrugged, his eyes never once leaving the saddle. 

"You wrote to him about me." Remus said it out loud, but it didn't seem to make the statement anymore savory. "You _wrote_ to him about me?" He heard the anger seeping into his voice, despite his best efforts. But still, Sirius had written to Snape about them? About issues that they couldn't even talk about one on one? He'd gone to _Snape_, of all people, with their problems?  

"Look. I had to do something, okay? It's not like the man reads them or anything. It's just the nature of the beast. I write to him, he writes to me, but we don't write to each other. It's more like writing a journal. Calm down." He could hear the strain in Sirius' voice, the tired quality to it. Rationally, he knew he shouldn't push about this, given both of their state of minds, it would only end badly. But these days, there was just something about Sirius that squashed the most sensible of thoughts.  

"Sirius, the man hates me. He thinks I should be put to sleep or shot or put out of my misery or something. Fuck, he told the whole world what I am, and you're writing to him? Complaining about me? Why don't you just paint a target on my chest for fuck's sake? Like the man needs anymore ammunition…" Remus snarled, retrieving Snape's note from his pocket and slamming it down on the saddle next to Sirius' hands. 

Sirius just had to write to Snape. Snape, who thought Remus had been a part of that prank. Snape, who had tattled his secret to the all and sundry. Snape, who had gotten him fired from the one job that he'd loved more than any other job he'd had before or since. They must be having a right chuckle over him. How funny would that be, having the two of them coming together—actually getting along for once—because of him. Because they both saw that he'd somehow ruined their lives with his presence alone. 

"I didn't do it to hurt you." Sirius murmured softly before opening the note. 

"Then why did you do it?" He snapped before he could stop himself. He was losing his temper. Yet again. Sirius seemed to be skilled sometimes at eliciting just the wrong response out of him. He hadn't meant for this to degenerate into an argument. He'd as much as promised Harry earlier that he'd at least attempt to be civil and calm. 

Besides that, what the hell was the matter with him? He was responsible for this. He'd pushed Sirius away. Time after bloody time. That was what he did with people. When they got too close, when they started getting too near to figuring him out, he divorced himself from the situation. Wasn't this what bothered him so much about Sirius in the first place? He was unwilling to let it just go peacefully, he had to try and fight to reestablish old connections and try to make them stronger. Remus wasn't good at making those connections, and what was more, he didn't want that kind of intimacy. Not with anyone. 

Just the fact that he'd managed to push Sirius into talking with Snape of all people about his problems had to be proof that they weren't close. That they weren't in any danger of ever being that close. Wasn't this what he had wanted?

No. 

No it wasn't. 

"I…What do you want me to say?" Sirius' low, scratchy voice penetrated the silence. "So he reads them. It's done. I don't know what it is that you want from me anymore. I don't think I have any of the things in me that would make you happy with me. God only knows I've been trying to get you to talk to me all fucking week, but now that you are…I can't take this right now. Maybe it would be best if you just went back into the house." 

"Sorry. I just…sorry. I didn't mean that. Not like that." He mumbled, falling back onto the bale of hay in defeat and running his hands through his hair. "It's your business, and you have the right to write to whoever you feel like writing to and telling them whatever you feel like telling them. I overreacted." 

"No. You were right. I shouldn't have written to him about it. This should have stayed just between you and me. It's just that…Look, I'm not like you or like him. Honestly, I don't know how you two do it. You act like nothing is wrong, you can shrug it off somehow and it won't come back to haunt you. You can just bury it. I can't do that. I'm not like that." Sirius reached over, placing the note on the bale beside Remus, but never once looking up to meet his eyes. 

"You think I just bury everything and forget about it?" Remus asked quietly, his eyes catching sight of Sirius' sleeves as the other man rolled them up and went back to shining the saddle in methodic movements. 

"Don't you?" 

"No. It's always there. Anger at you for the Shack. Anger at myself for letting people get close. Anger at everyone else for exploiting my weaknesses and using them against me. I act like it doesn't effect me, that what people say or do against me because of what I am has no consequence with me, but that's all it is…an act. It just seems sometimes that while you're trying to fix things, I'm running from them. Can you see the difference there?" He asked with a heavy sigh as the realization struck him.

"You're not masochistic?" The quip was a weak one at best, and Remus snorted in response. 

"Hardly." He retorted, his eyes drifting again to Sirius' forearms as the man rubbed the polish into the tack. "I'm not happy being by myself. I don't like being alone. I don't like being lonely. I don't think anyone really does, to tell the truth. This? This is a self imposed exile. You know, it took talking to Harry for me to see that, but it is. This life I've made for myself? This is a punishment I've given myself for something I never had control over to begin with." He let the words trail off softly even as he absorbed what it was that he'd just said out loud. 

"You don't deserve to live like that. No matter what you are, Remus." There was heart in the words, Remus could hear that clearly enough, but it bothered him that Sirius hadn't looked up to say it. Had he really messed things up between them that badly? So badly that Sirius couldn't even look at him?   

"Neither do you." The silence stretched out between them as Sirius put down the cloth in his hands and pushed the old, decrepit saddle out of his lap. 

"With me it's different." Sirius finally said, twining fingers into each other as he folded his hands. "You know me. I was never one much for punishment. Never was much for following the rules either. And my life as it is now? I deserve this. All the things that I've done, the people I've betrayed, the rules I've broken. This is my just desserts for the life I once led. I made the wrong choices, and I have to live with that. My situation isn't like yours, and you do yourself a great disservice in comparing them. Fate dealt you a bad hand. But the only person responsible for my grief and my suffering is me."

Remus blinked as he looked over at Sirius' bowed head. "Fate dealt you a bad hand too." He tried to reason, even as Sirius was already shaking his head against the logic. "You spent twelve years in Azkaban because you were framed. You don't think that's an abysmally bad stroke of luck? You were accused and convicted of a crime you didn't commit." 

"I spent twelve years in Azkaban for betraying my best friend. For being reckless and careless with the rules. For almost getting an innocent classmate murdered in moment of blind prejudice." Sirius whispered quietly. 

"You weren't sent to Azkaban over that damned prank." Remus returned angrily. There was no way he was going to let Sirius make him feel guilty over this. He'd been the one wronged in that incident, and so had Snape. That, and there was a little voice whispering in the back of his head that if Sirius really believed this line of thought, then maybe…just maybe, Remus had horribly misjudged him these last few years. 

"I'm not saying this to make you feel guilty." Sirius said with a laugh that seemed to lack humor completely. "You had every right to be angry at me, you have every right to be angry right now. But don't tell me that I wasn't sent there because of that prank." 

"It had everything to do with the Potters' death and nothing to do with old history between us. I don't understand how you can say that it did." He growled in frustration. 

"Look, I had to be held accountable for my actions sometime, right?" 

"Dumbledore gave you detention." He quipped facetiously. 

"Dumbledore lost all faith in me." Sirius snarled back. "_You_ lost all faith in me. With that one stupid act, I tore apart our group and I created a rift between myself and the people who all might have cared about me. Maybe I was sent to Azkaban for a crime I didn't commit, but I went because to everyone around me, it didn't seem very farfetched for me to have killed. After all, hadn't I almost killed Snape? Hadn't I already betrayed one friend's trust? Who was going to believe me, Remus? I'd already proven myself capable of contemplating homicide. I'd already shown myself to be an unreliable secrets keeper. I paid for what I did to you, because if I hadn't done that, if I hadn't sent Snape to you that night in a fit of anger, then maybe Dumbledore or you or any number of other people might have been a bit more suspicious of Peter. Maybe someone would have stood up for me, maybe someone would have at least attempted to advocate for a fair trial. Or at the very least, a dose of Vertiserum…"

"They were crazy times, and people wanted a scapegoat. You don't know for sure that you would have gotten a fair shake even if it hadn't been for that." He pointed out softly as Sirius dug his fingers through his hair. 

"Doesn't matter. I needed to be stopped. I needed to be reprimanded for what I did. I needed a wake up call, and that just happened to be it. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I'd done to you. About the kind of person I was and who I wanted to be instead. I'd like to tell you that I'm reformed, rehabilitated…reborn even I guess. But I'm not. I don't think I can be. I'm just…" Sirius seemed to stop, struggling to find the right word. 

"Broken." Remus supplied. Sirius gave a harsh laugh in response. 

"I wish it were that easy. Broken implies that I can be fixed. I'm thinking more along the lines of rotten. Rotten from the inside out and unredeemable." 

And for a moment, Remus was disturbed by the picture Sirius presented before him. Arrogant, overconfident Sirius who had never seemed to be bothered by pithy things like insecurities or uncertainties when they'd been kids…sitting before him expressing something as foreign to Sirius' nature as self-hatred. 

Cautiously, Remus reached over, grabbing one of Sirius' shaking hands lightly by the wrist and gently pulling it towards him, palm up. "I…I didn't think you understood what it was like to feel that way." He managed thickly, sliding a thumb up over the thin white scar along Sirius' forearm. In response, Sirius tried to jerk the arm back, but Remus wouldn't let him as he stared down at the mark in a moment of stunned comprehension. "When we were in school…you just always seemed so confident. So sure of yourself." 

"Yeah, well." Sirius muttered, his eyes still trained on the floor of the loft. "I was a fucking idiot, what did you expect? I said so much crap about myself that even I started to believe it. And even then…" 

"You weren't that bad." 

"That's like saying Voldemort's just a little mad." Sirius snorted trying to take the hand back again. In retaliation, Remus grabbed the other wrist with his free hand. "Remember the time I jumped off the tower to prove to you all that I knew my levitation charms." Sirius' quiet voice echoed in Remus' head as he thought back on the incident. At the time, he'd been both awed and more than a little intimidated by the twelve year old who had dared so much. "I always flirted with the edge, and I can't honestly say that it ever worried me too much if things turned out one way or the other. I just finally slipped over is all." 

"Well, you worried me." Remus admitted with a sigh, moving his thumbs lightly over the scars that ended just a few inches above Sirius' wrists. "And that was scary for me. Maybe too scary. I…I don't want for things to always be like they have been between us." He managed thickly. 

"I can't promise that I won't piss you off." 

"Good. Because I can't promise that I won't get angry." Remus returned easily. Watching as Sirius finally lifted his head to look him in the eye. 

"Don't say this…don't do this unless you really mean it." Wary, world-weary blue eyes looked back at him. 

"I mean it. Just…we have to go slow, you know? That's what I meant last night. I don't want us to make the same mistakes again." Remus let go of Sirius' wrists to tentatively grab his shoulders. Sirius' eyes never wavered, even though Remus could feel the tense muscles underneath his fingers. They were both scared. He could acknowledge that. Maybe they both had reason to be. It wasn't easy to reach out, it wasn't easy to have hope. 

"That's okay with me." Sirius whispered as they seemed to slide into a rather desperate hug. And for a moment, Remus allowed himself to simply breathe Sirius in, to enjoy the feel of the solid body in front of him and the arms around him. He let himself--for the first time in a long time--enjoy the sensation of being able to hold, to touch, and to be near someone. To be near Sirius. 

There was almost nothing sexual about it, he realized some time later as they'd both relaxed into the embrace. They probably would have even stayed like that all night if he hadn't let out a jaw popping yawn.

"We should probably get some sleep." Sirius said softly, squeezing so tight it almost hurt before releasing Remus reluctantly. 

"Are you…Do you want to sleep inside? You can, you know."

"Baby steps, Remus." Sirius said with a sad chuckle as he tugged lightly on a lock of Remus' hair. "I can't sleep in confined space without getting a little…crazy." He added a bit ashamedly. 

"Baby steps." Remus finally managed to agree, swallowing hard as the changes in them both really seemed to crystallize in his head. "I'll see you in the morning?" 

"Depends. Who's making breakfast? You or Harry?" 

"Harry." 

"Oh sure, I'll be there." 

*grin* "Jerk." 

*grin* "Prat."  

*****

Cracking an eye, Sirius knew that the footsteps he'd sensed—the ones that had woken him up—had indeed belonged to someone he knew. A Harry someone that he knew, in fact. The sun was rising on the horizon, but he was certain that it was entirely too early for any normal can't-get-up-till-two-in-the-afternoon teenager to be up. But then again, Harry had proven himself to be something of a morning person so far during this summer. 

"You awake, Sirius?" 

"I am now." He grumbled good-naturedly, burying his face back into the old jean jacket he'd used as a pillow when he'd decided to sleep out under the maple beside the porch.

"Did you talk things out with Remus?" 

"You know about that?" Bleary eyed, Sirius looked up, trying to gage Harry's mood and state of mind despite the fact that he was only half awake. 

"A little. Do you think things will work out?" 

"I don't know." He admitted. "I hope so. I think so. But you never really know for sure, you know. What are you doing up so early?" 

"Me?" As far as Sirius could tell, Harry seemed surprised by the question. 

"Yes, you. Don't you ever sleep?" He grumbled again, throwing his jacket at the teen this time as Harry laughed. 

"I wanted to ask you if I could take Buckbeak out to the south pasture. I figure he could use some exercise and I could use some change of scenery. If I read one more book, I shall go quite mad."

"Can't have that." Sirius quipped, rubbing the sleepers out of his eyes as he sat up and desperately tried to wipe the cobwebs out of his head. 

"I wanted to get out early since it'll probably get hotter this afternoon. Is that all right?" 

Sirius tried to think about it for a second, but he couldn't really see the harm in letting Harry go ahead. And the teen had been right; Buckbeak was getting a bit pudgy from inactivity. The fresh air would probably do them both some good. "Sure. I don't see why not. Just be careful, okay?" 

"Aren't I always?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" 

*****


	10. Of Settling Differences

******

"Hi..." 

"Hi yourself. Did you sleep alright out in the barn?" 

"Slept under the maple." 

"Er…that sounds…well…it sounds really uncomfortable." 

*chuckle* "It is, but that's alright." 

"Well, Harry's not around, so it looks like you will have to put up with my breakfast making skills." 

"Joy." 

*grin* "Shut up, you." 

"Remus…" 

"Yes?" 

"Did you…I mean…fuck, did you really mean what you said last night?" 

"About us? Well, yes…I meant it. Why, do you…?" 

"Oh, I still want to." 

"Then why did you ask?" 

"Just making sure. I mean…that is…yeah, well. These look like really good eggs." 

"Those are pancakes, and ask as many times as you need to, Sirius. I think there's been enough confusion between us to last a couple lifetimes." 

*grimace* "Ugh. These are pancakes?" *thwap* "Ow…" 

*snicker* "You really are something…" 

***** 

Harry glared at Buckbeak as the horrid beast shot him a baleful glance from the other end of the pasture. He really hadn't meant to accidentally tweak the poor thing's pin feathers like that, it had just happened. Granted, he should have been gentler, but the rhythmic motions of brushing down and grooming the big beast had failed to calm him down as it usually did. 

He was still pissed as hell. 

"Look, I apologized. I'm sorry already, Buckbeak. I didn't mean to pull so hard." He sounded less than sincere and he knew it. The majestic animal in turn gave him a look that could have rivaled one of Snape's patented sneers of disgust. "Fine," he muttered, "sulk. See if I care." 

Exasperated, Harry plunked himself down in the knee high grass and flopped onto his stomach, letting the summer sun warm his bare back. He'd long since shed the shirt, not wanting it to hamper his movements. The bloody thing was huge, just like every other item of clothing he owned. He managed a weary chuckle at the thought. 

Even when everything was changing so drastically around him, the things he hated remained depressingly constant. Not that he was a fashion queen or anything, but the clothes he had now were just one more reminder of what life had once encompassed, and they seemed to symbolize the fact that he would never fit—never grow into this world that had pulled him in at age eleven. 

Fuck. 

So Remus and Sirius were patching things up. If he were truly going to live up to the noble Gryffindor ideal, he'd feel happy for them. Thrilled that they both seemed to be working past their own hurt and anger to forge something new and solid. He should be grinning from ear to ear right now, marveling at how love could work in mysterious ways or some such nonsense. 

If he were half the Gryffindor everyone thought him to be, he wouldn't be sitting out here, angry and hurt and insanely jealous of what was probably happening back up at the house. Of all people, he should be the first to be happy for two very lonely people finding solace, a place to belong, in each other. If he were a better person, he wouldn't begrudge them an ounce of happiness. 

Just one more pedestal to have fallen off of, he managed to grimace to himself bitterly. 

Because he did begrudge them their happiness. He was angry. So fucking pissed that he could feel the bile of the emotion wrenching up his stomach and working its way furiously through his veins each time he thought of that stolen late night kiss under the willow tree. 

The rational portion of his brain, the part that was always there annoyingly whispering in his ear, knew that Remus and Sirius hadn't intended to do this. Hell, they probably didn't even have the first inkling of how deeply it might even be affecting him. Which in some ways suited his purposes just fine. He didn't need their help. He didn't need their pity. If they were going to shut him out, he refused to beg for scraps of attention like some masochistic kicked puppy. 

They had each other, and that was more than enough for them. Half grown kids had no place in situations such as this, and he knew without having to be told that he needed more from each of them that they'd be able to afford to give under these set of circumstances.  He refused to let them feel guilty for something they had no control over.  They weren't his parents. He wasn't their child. 

And it really was just as simple as that. 

Fuck, but he was so sick of it all though. Why did this have to be his life? Why had he even bothered getting his hopes up? He really should have known better by now. But damn them both anyway! They hadn't done anything to discourage his familial affections.  In fact, they had done everything in their power to encourage them, as far as he could tell. And the proud part of him, the part of him that refused to let his sense of self buckle under the pressures of the world around him, refused to let them see how much this backlash hurt. 

Fuck them. 

He hoped that this summer had benefited them in some monumental way. Grown-ups playing house, complete with cardboard cut-out child. Weren't they just the fucking picture of domestic bliss. Wasn't it just so damn adorable how they had fawned over him, acting like they fucking cared. And wasn't he just the world's biggest twat for having accepted the situation at face value. 

It was just that he had wanted to belong so badly. 

He wanted, for once in his life, to have something that was good—that was fucking normal for god's sake—that he could depend on. He was sick of being the world's guinea pig. The Boy Who Lived. The Parlestongue. Hogwarts resident celebrity. He was sick to death of being the pathetically unaware pawn in everyone's grand schemes and machinations. 

Dumbledore, who still seemed a bit godlike in his head sometimes, saw him as a means to an end. He could see that now, even if it hadn't been abundantly apparent when he was younger. One too many nasty missteps within the halls of Hogwarts had lent him towards cynicism. The old man's affections came with strings. Just like everyone else's. Sometimes he felt like a goddamned puppet, jumping at all of their whims, feeling himself get pulled in a dozen different directions as he tried to insinuate himself into their good graces. 

Why he even did it to himself, he wasn't sure. What was the point of having someone's affection if you knew it was conditional? What was the fucking point if you knew that, at some future moment in time, you wouldn't be able to live up to those conditions? 

Be sane. Be heroic. Be Gryffindor. Be Slytherin. Be logical. Be headstrong. Be everything and anything while embodying nothing at all… 

No one could live up to that. Not even him, in all his artificial glory.  

He could feel Buckbeak's shadow fall over him as the huge animal stood in silent support beside him, but he couldn't make himself look up. He knew the beast was picking up on his distress. Hell, since Buckbeak had been around Sirius so much, this ought to be nothing new. 

Sirius, his godfather. His _family_. What a joke. He had no family. And the logistics of it didn't even matter to him anymore. To see Sirius' shy the smile this morning as he mentioned Remus…it was like someone had reached out, grabbing hold of his heart between beats and squeezing, making the blood pump erratically as the hurt reverberated through his chest. He should have realized that he was making more out of what they felt for him than was actually there. The Dursleys. His professors. The headmaster. The Weasleys. His godfather…

There was a distance there between them. It was always there. Professional integrity. Insanity. Fear of getting close. He imagined that there were a myriad of reasons that they whispered to themselves when they even bothered to think about why they instinctually shied away from him. It was like feeling deeply for a beaten dog you knew was going to die on the operating table. To them, he imagined that to feel anything positive—anything lasting—towards him went against all rules of self preservation. Why care for someone who already had one foot in the grave? 

The Boy Who Lived. He gave a humorless laugh. How fucking ironic was that. He wanted to die. Longed to die sometimes. And just like Trelawney, the wizarding world waited with baited breath, predicting his tragic end as he took out the feared enemy of their time. Sometimes he hated all of them too. Leaving Voldemort's destruction to the incapable, inexperienced hands of a sixteen year old… 

Ah, but his life meant nothing, had no value to them, and yet conversely his fame meant everything. 

And as for those who were supposed to be close to him? Those who were supposedly there to keep him glued together? They didn't exist. Not for him. Remus and Sirius deserved each other, plainly needed each other. A snot-nosed teen would just be in the way. The Weasleys didn't need the added risk he presented, nor did they want it. Hermione had her own life, and her own worries, and currently her own hidden love for their mutual friend. Given her logical bent of mind, he could understand her tenuous neutrality. 

He wondered for a moment, if this was what Remus had felt at his age. Human, and a part of the same society, but at the same time so incredibly isolated. So incredibly and achingly alone and apart from all the rest who would never understand. 

"Now that is one hell of a tattoo." The muffled snicker came from above him, and Harry jerked around and upright just in time to see Ron jump off an old broom that looked like it had definitely seen better days. 

"Ron." He managed to spit out in way of a greeting, unable to keep the wary weariness out of his voice as he did so. Looking a bit subdued, Ron picked idly at the broom's tail for a moment before meeting Harry's gaze boldly. 

"Mum, well…she's being totally irrational. And I've had it. Gave me an ultimatum of all bloody things, can you believe it? Had to choose between you or my family. Given the way they've been acting, it wasn't that much of a choice. Harry…" Ron trailed off, the nervousness apparent in his stance as the words died on his lips. 

Harry searched the freckled face for a moment, taking in what he'd just said slowly and deliberately. Ron had left his family. For him. Left his loving, caring, accepting family to be with _him_. Ron, who had a place he belonged and people he belonged to, had just thrown it all away in some half baked notion of loyalty and adventure. 

Ron had willingly just admitted to signing his own death certificate, to crossing over to the already decaying world Harry unwillingly lived in every day. There was no way. No fucking way he was going to allow this. He saw more than felt his fist fly out, cutting viciously across Ron's jaw. 

"You don't even know how fucking good you have it." He growled before jumping at the other boy, determined to pummel whatever affection Ron had for him out of the other boy completely.  He already knew his fate, and he wasn't taking anyone other than Voldemort along with him for the trip. He wasn't going to be responsible for ruining someone else's life. For getting someone else killed. 

It wasn't until he felt strong arms physically pull him off Ron that he noticed the hot trails of tears running down his cheeks. 

*****

Sirius grappled with Harry's thrashing form as Remus bent down to help the bloodied redhead to his feet. 

And the morning had started out so pleasant too, he thought as he gave a disappointed shake of his head only to rear back as Harry's fist flew backward connecting solidly with a cheekbone. "Ow, fuck!" He growled, more angry with himself for letting Harry get a cheap shot in than at Harry himself for having thrown it. He shot an exasperated look at Remus, raising an eyebrow as he did so to try and convey both his frustration and confusion at the situation they now found themselves in. 

One moment, he had been sharing a cup of tea with Remus in the fragile peace they'd managed to establish, and the next thing he'd known, Remus was nattering on about wards being broken and rushing them both out to the south pasture. This was definitely something of an ominous note to be attempting to start a relationship on. 

"Divide and conquer." Remus managed curtly before dragged the protesting redhead by the scruff of his shirt back towards the house. Lovely. Remus would take the easier of the two, he thought flippantly before sobering up. It really wasn't a matter of easy or not, it was a matter of figuring out what in the hell had set Harry off so badly. 

Not to say that the teen was a born peacekeeper. He wasn't as extreme as Pettigrew used to be by any stretch of the imagination, but Harry wasn't one to instigate fights either. 

He waited until Remus and Ron were well out of sight before letting the teen go. As expected, Harry leapt out of his immediate grasp, putting distance between the two of them as he turned his back on his godfather and sunk down into the grass. Sirius idly rubbed his cheek for a moment, already grimacing at what he was sure was going to be a horrid looking bruise come tomorrow, before gathering up his courage and moving over to sit down beside the teen. 

"Harry," he started out softly, placing an arm lightly over the tense shoulders. 

"Just leave me the fuck alone." Harry ground the words out after violently shoving himself away from Sirius. He paused, unsure of how to take that comment. He tried to imagine what Remus would do in this situation, and after a few seconds of thought, determined that he had no bloody clue what Remus might do so he might as well try to solve it his own way. 

"What did Ron say?" 

"What do you care?" The flippant reply irritated him more than he cared to admit. 

"Hey, I care a lot, okay? What, do you think you and Remus are the only people who feel isolated sometimes? What is it that I have to say, that I have to do to make you two see that I'm not joking around about this sort of thing? Maybe it's easier for me to admit, but it's not because I feel things any less intensely than you do." He ground out, trying to keep his anger contained. Maybe he wasn't the most reliable individual in the world, but emotions weren't something he took lightly anymore. He couldn't afford to. When one misstep could throw him completely off, he learned to pay a bit more attention to the things he felt and how he expressed it. 

"Liar." The bitter word settled between them as Harry shot him an angry glare before resting his forehead against his drawn up knees, shutting Sirius out. 

"Harry, you're my godson." He attempted, reaching out once more. Harry swatted his hand away this time before he could even get close. 

"Don't touch me." The words were cold, but Sirius could hear the underlying agony in them. "So I'm your godson. What exactly does that mean, anyway? You went through some dippy ceremony when I was a baby and poof, we have a connection? We aren't related, and you're not my father." Harry voice cracked bitterly on the last word. 

"No." He said slowly, painfully even, as the syllable was dragged out of him. 

"No, I'm not. I'm not really father-type material." 

Harry seemed to crack in front of his eyes, giving a watery unfathomable laugh as he dug fingers through his unruly black hair. "Right. Right…I'm such an idiot, aren't I? Don't feel bad about it, Sirius. It's just the way of the world, you know?" 

"What is?" He couldn't keep the perplexed not out of his voice as he tried to figure out what in the hell Harry was talking about. 

"This. My life. You and Remus. The Weasleys. It's just the way things go. Everything has its proper place. I just seem to be having problems finding mine." Tear stained eyes regarded him with a sort of twisted sense of irony. "Don't worry. I absolve you from your duty. You couldn't have known when you agreed to be my godfather what that was going to mean. You already have a life to live. I don't have the right to demand any more from you than what you've already given." Harry's face twisted into a resentful sneer even as he stated the thought so calmly. 

"What in the hell are you nattering on about? You are a part of my life. You will always be a part of my life, whether you want a place in it or not. I just can't be your father. And you have every right to feel angry about that, but I can't change that. I'm not exactly a sterling example here of responsibility. I mean, let's face, I'm not the poster child for maturity. But I'm not leaving you alone, so get used to it." He deadpanned as he waited for the teen to at least look up at him. 

"Oh please. What do you take me for? A complete fucking moron? What is it that you want from me, my blessing? I hope you and Remus live happily ever after in fucking wedded bliss without any unpleasant reminders of the past." Harry snarled, shoving off the ground before he started stalking his way back towards the house. 

Sirius could feel his ire rising at the sight. What was it with everyone he loved? Why was it that they always felt obligated to leave just as the heart of the matter was coming to light? Jesus Christ, but he got sick of watching their retreating backs. Mentally, he tried counting to ten to calm down, but when that didn't work, he went with his initial response. 

"We weren't finished talking yet." He yelled before pouncing and wrestling a snarling and spitting Harry down to the grassy turf. A few deft moves and he had the teen struggling helplessly in a headlock. "Now," he managed between pants for air, "is it me and Remus getting…er…friendly that has your knickers in such a twist?" 

"Like you fucking care." 

"Quit saying that," Sirius ground out, applying subtle pressure to the pinned boy. 

"Ow!" At Harry's yelp, he let up. A little. He wasn't giving the teen another opportunity to run. "Why not? It's the truth. You have Remus. I'm just in the way. Unwanted, troublesome, no good, dangerous baggage. I'll bet the two of you just can't wait until I'm off your hands." 

"You and Remus make my head hurt. I swear to god you do." Sirius bit off with an exasperated sigh. "Look, I could spout some trite crap at you right now about how people can love more than one person at a time, but I think that would be an insult to both of our intelligences. As it is…look, I love you, Harry. Maybe not the way you want me too…I'm more of a big brother than any sort of father figure, but that doesn't discount the fact that you mean a lot to me. I don't have a lot of important people in my life either. And the people I do have, I do not plan on letting go of any time soon. If I have to fucking write you a goddamned owl everyday or visit you or reassure you in Howlers, I will. And trust me, I will make sure that my declaration of love embarrasses the shit out of you at breakfast each morning until you finally get the picture, okay? You have a place in my life. Hell, you've got a place in Remus' life. We're not going to let you throw that away, so get used to the idea of having us around." He could feel Harry shudder and shiver in his arms, and cautiously, he loosened his grip, letting the teen slump into a small dejected pile. 

"I'm sorry." Harry whispered as the fight went out of the teen, and Sirius could hear the tears in his voice. God, but he knew it had been a rough summer for Harry. But some emotional blowouts just had to happen. He let the silence settle between them for a few moments as he waited for Harry to regain some of his composure.

"Don't worry about it." He finally said softly. "Remember what I said? You and Remus don't always see the world right." Lightly, he slung and arm around the teen's neck and rested his chin on the messy black head and he pulled Harry into a casual hug. "Any other land mines in there I should know about?" He teased lightly poking at Harry's ribs. 

"Oh right, like I'm going to actually tell you. They wouldn't be very effective land mines if you knew about them, now would they." Harry smirked before giving his eyes one last rub. "I…um, I think I need to talk to Ron though." He admitted sheepishly. 

"Excellent idea." Sirius returned as they scrambled to their feet and Harry went to retrieve his shirt. Even as the teen shrugged into it, Sirius grimaced. "Here's another wonderful idea. Shopping. You and me. You need a new wardrobe." 

"Yeah, but you can't exactly walk into stores with me, now can you. It's not a big deal. These clothes are fine." 

Sirius snorted. "No. No, they aren't. How would you feel at being blind for a day?" 

"Come again?" 

"Snuffles, your seeing eye dog and fashion expert extraordinaire, at your service," he gave an elaborate mock bow, which elicited a smile out of the somewhat somber teen. 

"Oh, god help us all." Harry groaned even as he laughed.  

******

"So, what happened?" Remus tried to ask mildly as Ron attempted to evade the washcloth he was using to mop up the blood that was smeared on the teen's face. 

"What happened?" Ron's voice had a pinched quality to it since it seemed Harry had gotten one good punch in that had bloodied Ron's nose. "He went starkers on me, that's what happened. What the hell have you two been doing to him?" The angry scowl on Ron's face did nothing to alleviate the protectively righteous anger Remus was feeling on Harry's behalf. This dense brat had absolutely no understanding of what it was Harry was going through because of him. And while Remus may have been a bit more forgiving at the start of the summer, but the dynamics between him and Harry had changed and things were different now. 

No one messed with his family without having to tangle with him, too. 

"Us?" He returned in a deceptively mild voice. "I don't think it's anything _we_ did to him. One might ask what you and yours did to him." He added, ignoring Ron's yelp as he was a bit rougher than intended as he washed away the last remnants of the blood. 

"I can't help it that everyone in my family has lost their sanity." The teen bit back savagely, yanking the cloth out of Remus' hands before Remus could 'help' him some more. 

"No, no you really can't. You're only in control of your own actions." He stated calmly. "And speaking of which, what are you doing here? I don't recall anyone sending you an invitation." 

"Look, I had to talk to Harry. Work things out with him, you know?"  
  
"Hmm," Remus murmured disapprovingly. "That wasn't the song you were singing a month ago." He pointed out with his usual cynicism. "Why the sudden change of heart? Guilty conscience get to you?"

Ron blinked, uncomprehendingly at him for a few moments before turning a violent shade of red as his face deepened into fury. "I just lost my _sister_. My _only_ sister. Maybe some people have ice water running through their veins, but I don't. You have no fucking idea what I've been through this summer, so don't presume to understand me or my motivations." 

Remus blinked, astonished for a moment that someone like Ron Weasley had effectively just put him in his place. "That still doesn't answer my question. What are you doing here?" 

"Oh hell," Ron seemed to mutter in defeat before slumping down into a chair beside the table and resting his forehead on the table. "My mum's driving me crazy. She refuses to let me have any sort of contact with Harry…which, by the way, is why all his messages kept getting returned unopened. She's freaked on the idea that I'm going to get targeted next if I even breathe in Harry's general direction. Yet at the same time, she frets around the house going on about 'poor Harry' this and 'poor Harry' that. Losing Ginny has her running scared." 

Taking a moment to ponder the situation in light of what Ron had just explained, Remus plopped down in his own chair, mildly stunned. "So what made Harry react like that then?" He asked, confused. 

Ron shot him an exasperated glance, "I don't know. Hence, my accusation at the beginning of this lovely conversation. All I did was tell him that Mum was driving me nuts and that we'd argued. She made me choose between my family and him, and I chose him. She'll come around eventually." Ron shrugged at Remus' stunned look. 

"And that's what you told him?" Remus groaned. God save him from oblivious teenagers. "All right. Harry 101. Family is sacred to that kid. To him, the idea that you would throw away what he sees as everything he's ever wanted out of life has to be repugnant to him. The fact that you threw it away for him makes it that much worse." 

"Oh," The deer-in-the-headlights look of understanding on Ron's face would have been laughable in any other circumstance. 

"Add to that, the fact that he already feels responsible for Ginny's death--" 

"But Voldemort…"

"That's not the way he sees it. Take my word on that. He doesn't want anyone else to die on him. This is just a guess, but he's probably 'freaked' on the idea of being responsible for your death too." Remus stated mildly. 

"Why does he do that?" The pained look on Ron's face spoke volumes. "Why does everyone do that? I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And I'm perfectly fine with being responsible for my own actions. Why does everyone feel like they have to try and protect me and baby me? Am I really _that_ wussy?" 

Remus managed to hold back his laughter, but the smile was more than apparent on his face as he shook his head. "I doubt that's it." 

"It's not." 

They both whirled around to see Harry sheepishly standing next to Sirius in the doorway. "Wow, you really managed to get him good, Harry. That's going to be one hell of a shiner." Sirius' comment earned him a scowl from Ron and an embarrassed eye roll from Harry.

"You want to go out to the barn and talk?" Harry asked Ron softly, bypassing the adults completely. Ron shot him a rather wary glance which had Harry scuffing the floor in embarrassment all over again. "Look, I promise not to use my fists this time. All we'll do is talk." 

"Well…as long as you promise." Ron shrugged, following Harry's lead as the two boys walked out the door. 

"Shouldn't we…" Sirius motioned vaguely after them as he looked at Remus. 

"What?" 

"Go with them or something? Mediate? Keep them from killing each other?" 

"Oh I don't know," Remus couldn't seem to suppress the grin on his face. "I think they're big boys. Let them duke it out amongst themselves. No one ever mediated our fights." 

"Well, yes, exactly," Sirius frowned, "and look where that got us."  

"I think we managed okay." Remus answered softly, smiling as he moved to stand next to Sirius in the doorway. "Any regrets?" If there was ever a loaded question, it was that. Honestly, were would they start? The list of regrets they had piled between them had to be huge, they'd made so many mistakes in the short time that they'd had so far. As it was, Sirius took a long time pondering the question as they both kept their gazes fastened on the barn across the backyard. 

"Only that I didn't do this sooner." Sirius finally answered, the devil-may-care grin on his face as he playfully grabbed at Remus, pulling him up against the kitchen wall and kissing for all that they were both worth. And maybe Sirius had the right of it by not spending so much negative energy dwelling on what couldn't be changed. If his one last regret in life could be something as simple, as banal as not having stolen a kiss sooner…well, maybe that was a better way to live. 

When their lips finally parted, Remus relaxed back into the hands that had worked their way up his shirt and were currently caressing his back. "You are so immature." He laughed at the slightly dumbfound look on Sirius' face. 

"Wanker."

"Prat." 

"Dungbutt."

"Ass licker." 

"Why? You want me to?" *leer*

*laughs* "I hate you." 

"Well, tough shit. I love you." 

"Good. Because I love you back." 

******

The end. 

*huge hugs to everyone who reviewed* You guys completely made my day with those reviews. ^-^ Thank you for being so supportive of this and of me while I was writing it!! *tackle glomps* Y'all rock! 


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